


Bad Dreams

by Karasu888



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-01
Updated: 2016-04-20
Packaged: 2018-05-30 15:17:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 12
Words: 30,960
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6429658
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Karasu888/pseuds/Karasu888
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Inquisitor must battle his fears or make a deal and be lost forever.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is just the start! I have a lot more, just need to post it. What Kes has to go through really just gets worse as it goes on...

An arrow lodged solidly into the August Ram’s heart, causing the beast to topple over dead.

“Bull’s eye!” exclaimed Iron Bull as he walked the distance over to the animal.

Kestrel smiled as he stood from his one-kneed crouch, lowering his bow.

“You know, I could have taken it down just as easily,” commented Dorian, idly brushing some unseen dirt off of his shift.

“Yeah, but then we’d have to deal with the strange taste your magic leaves in our mouth,” muttered Blackwall as he worked on getting a fire going.

“My magic is not unpalatable!” retorted the mage, crossing his arms over his chest.

Bull returned to camp with the ram slung over his shoulder and raised a disbelieving eyebrow at Dorian.  “Come on, Vint, you know your magic makes the food taste weird anytime you’re around it.  Don’t get your panties in a twist.”  He dropped the beast a little past their camp and went to work gutting it.

Dorian wrinkled his nose in disgust and squatted by the struggling fire that Blackwall was still laboring at.  The wood was too wet and he was having a hard time lighting it with his flint and dagger.  “You know, I’d help with the fire but I wouldn’t want it to leave an odd aftertaste,” he grumbled at the Warden.

Kestrel chuckled as he made his way over to the mage, resting a hand on his shoulder.  “Surely a little mage fire won’t hurt the flavor too much.”

Blackwall sighed as he leaned back, scratching his beard.  “The damn wood’s too wet anyway.  Do your thing, Dorian,” he agreed, gesturing at the pile of wood.

The mage snapped his fingers and fire sprang from the kindling.  Kestrel squeezed his shoulder in thanks before sitting down next to him.  Iron Bull joined them shortly after with a fully prepped ram and set it over the blazing fire to start cooking.

The four men sat in silence as the meat cooked and filled the air with a delicious aroma.  They had been exploring the Emerald Graves for the last week together and they all seemed to welcome the quiet company.  Once their dinner was done, Bull deftly served it up to the four of them, offering an accompaniment of whatever was in his flask.  Kestrel declined, remembering the strength of what they had drank together last time in Skyhold.  It had taken him a full day to recover.  Dorian also refused, citing the fact that it didn’t pair well with what they were eating.  Blackwall on the other hand agreed to try the alcohol and, to his credit, didn’t choke with the first sip.  His cheeks reddened after a few swigs and he handed it back to the Qunari with a thankful nod.

Now that the Warden was liquored up, Bull began to question him about his long stares at Josephine and the man’s cheeks darkened.  Seeing he wasn’t going to get much information from Blackwall, Bull started offering tips on how to get her attention

With a full stomach, the Inquisitor exhaled as a grin appeared on his face.  He leaned back on his hands and looked up at the shadowed treetops that towered above them as the other two men continued their conversation, albeit a bit one-sided.  He wriggled his bare toes in the grass beneath him.  He had ditched his shoes the first moment he’d had once they reached the ancient woods.

“Kes?” questioned Dorian, unsure what was causing him to smile.

“This forest reminds me of home.  The trees here are much larger but the smells and sounds are so similar.  It’s just nice to get away from being Inquisitor and especially all of the paperwork.  I feel like a normal elf here.”

“You’re anything but normal, _amatus_ ,” murmured the mage, using his thumb to wipe away a smear of grease from their meal off the elf’s cheek.

Kestrel turned his head and caught Dorian’s thumb in his mouth, meeting his eyes as his tongue licked away the grease.

“And quite a tease…” he growled, desire and the light of the fire reflecting in his gray eyes.

The heard crackle of the fire emphasized how quiet their companions had grown.  The Inquisitor’s blue eyes shifted to Iron Bull and Blackwall to find them staring at them, the former with a big grin on his face and the latter seemed mortified.  Kestrel flushed furiously and quickly released Dorian’s thumb as the mage laughed.

“There’s a group of bushes not too far off, you just have to watch out for the wolves, Boss,” offered the Qunari.

“Bull!” Kestrel exclaimed in further embarrassment, hiding his face in his hands as the blush reached his pointed ears.

Dorian’s laugh died down into a chuckle as he wrapped an arm around the elf’s waist.  “I’m sure they wouldn’t have minded the show, _amatus_.  Right, Blackwall?”

The Inquisitor groaned into his hands but he did lean against the mage.

The Warden grumbled something about how he was going to bed and they could do whatever they wanted after his was asleep.

“I’ll take first watch so you two love birds can be alone,” snickered Iron Bull as he moved away from the fire.  He found a good position leaning against the trunk of a large tree with his back to them.  A loud snore started from Blackwall, signaling he was asleep.

Dorian turned to kiss the shaved side of Kestrel’s head, right above his ear.  “You can come out now,” he whispered.

The elf peaked through his fingers before lowering his hands from his face, cheeks still faintly pink.  His blue eyes were wide in horror as he said softly, “I’d forgotten they were there.”

“Yes, and it was so deliciously naughty of you,” Dorian murmured with a smirk.  Kestrel opened his mouth to protest but he quickly silenced him with a chaste kiss.  “But I understand your private ways and will respect your wish not to do anything too inappropriate why we’re traveling.”

“Thank you.”

Dorian leaned closer and whispered seductively into Kestrel’s ear, “However, when we make it back to Skyhold, you’re mine.”

The Inquisitor felt a shudder of anticipation run through him.  “I wouldn’t have it any other way, _ma vhenan_.”

 

* * *

 

 

The next morning, Blackwall, Bull, and Kestrel chipped into packing up camp while Dorian ensured his hair was perfectly styled and his mustache was perfectly curled.  They were used to his contribution so no one bothered complaining.  He would just point out he normally does the heavy lifting when it comes to repairing bridges or closing darkspawn holes.  Plus, he liked to use the time to watch Kestrel working hard without all of his armor on.

Once their gear was organized and they had their armor back on, they headed in the direction of a reported rift in the area.  It didn’t take long for the scar in the Inquisitor’s hand to start crackling with the pull of the Fade.  The forest had also grown eerily quiet and none of the normal wildlife of the forest was around.  They spotted a clearing and a flash of green in the sky indicated they had reached their destination.  Kestrel gestured for the others to stop and slipped into stealth.  His hand pulsated and ached as he creeped closer, glad that his companions couldn’t see the grimace of pain on his face.  It seemed the more he used it, the more it bothered him but he didn’t feel the need to worry anyone with that information yet. 

Responding to his proximity, two Greater Terrors spawned from the tear and began pacing, searching for the culprit that released them.  The Inquisitor returned to the group and dropped his invisibility as he reported back.

Blackwall frowned as he grumbled, “Those demons are a pain.  I’ll take one and Bull, I’ll need you to take the other one.  Keep it on you so it doesn’t teleport over to the Inquisitor or Dorian.”

The Qunari nodded his head in agreement with the plan and pulled his great axe over his shoulder from its sheath on his back.  The Warden followed suit taking the lead and advancing with Iron Bull as Kestrel prepared an arrow in his bow.  Dorian brought up the rear, staff in hand.  The air sung with his readied power causing the hair on the back of the Inquisitor’s neck to stand on end.

The closer of the two Terrors released a blood curdling screech as the team appeared from the tree line, long talons grasping at the air.  Both grew very still as the Inquisitor came into view.  Their horned heads turned to track the elf’s movement, ignoring the Warden and Qunari charging at them through the clearing.  It wasn’t until both warriors start hacking at the demons that they started to attack back.  Dorian and Kestrel stayed at the edge of the forest and attacked with fire and arrows respectively.

The Terror fighting Blackwall screamed again and as he took a swing, it disappeared suddenly into the ground.  The Warden stumbled as his sword sliced through thin air and he dropped to a knee, struggling to his feet with his heavy armor.  He searched the immediate area for the demon.  Bull was grappling with the other Terror, a grin plastered on his face.  Just as his gaze made it to the Inquisitor and the Tevinter, a green circle appeared beneath them and the beast burst forth, knocking both men off their feet.

“Inquisitor!” Blackwall shouted, running towards them as fast as he could in his armor but he was still a good distance away.

Dorian groaned and sat up slowly, rubbing the back of his head that had hit the ground.  As his vision came into focus, the Terror pinned Kestrel on the floor beneath him.  He scrambled to his feet with the support of his staff as a flame blossomed in his hand but he hesitated.  The Terror was made out of a wood-like substance and with Kestrel beneath him, he was concerned about collateral damage if his magic set the demon on fire.

The creature grabbed the Inquisitor’s left arm and forced it above his head.  The elf cried out in pain as his arm was wrenched at an awkward angle.  His free right hand desperately searched for the dagger around his waist as the Terror used its other hand to splay out Kestrel’s fingers, exposing his palm with the glowing green scar.  He exhaled with relief when his hand found the hilt of his blade.  In one fluid motion, he unsheathed the dagger and rammed it into the demon’s side.  Its only reaction was a shriek of fury that nearly deafened Kestrel, causing the elf to release the blade and cover the one ear he was able to reach.

“ _Kaffas_!” Dorian cursed.  He had snuck up behind the demon and had planned on clubbing it with his staff when he was forced to also shield his ears from the piercing noise.

Repositioning its long-fingered hand so it only had to use one to keep the Inquisitor’s scar visible, the Terror used a talon from its other hand to cut into Kestrel’s palm from one end to the other, forming an “x” between the slash and his mark.

The Inquisitor screamed as blood welled up from the wound.

With a grunt of effort, Blackwall slammed into the Terror shield first, using his momentum from the run over.  He knocked it off of the elf and sent it tumbling several times over.  Dorian didn’t wait for it to recover before he set the demon on fire.  The Terror flailed on the ground before settling.  A second later it dissolved into a green cloud and transferred back to the rift.

Dorian ran to the side of the Inquisitor and dropped to his knees, assessing his wounds.  He didn’t even notice Blackwall standing guard over them or Iron Bull dispatching the other Terror and handling the second wave that consisted of wraiths single handedly.

“I need to fix that arm and hand of yours, a _matus_ ,” he said softly, running his fingers lightly over Kestrel’s vallaslin on his way to his hand.  The mage’s hand started to glow over the wound.

“ _Fenedhis_ ,” Kestrel hissed, assaulted by a new wave of pain from his hand.

“I don’t understand.  Your wound’s not healing,” growled Dorian as he poured more magic into the healing effort.  Healing magic wasn’t his strength but he at least knew enough to repair a gash.

The Inquisitor cried out, tears welling up in his eyes.  “Stop!  Please, _Mythal ir ghilana_ …stop!” he begged, yanking his hand from the mage’s grasp and cradling it close his chest even though his twisted shoulder burned with the forced movement.  He sat up as he panted through the echoing waves of agony, “Y-Your magic, Dorian…it’s hurting me.”

The mage’s face blanched when he realized he was the source of the pain.  “Maker…I had no idea.  The Fade scar in your hand must be interfering with my ability to heal anything around it.”

The Inquisitor forced a smile through the ache in his hand and shoulder.  “It’s alright, Dorian.  You didn’t know.”

“Guess we’ll have to wrap it up the old-fashioned way, Boss.”

Both the elf and mage jumped.  They hadn’t heard Iron Bull approach.  Despite his size, he could be stealthy when he wanted to.

“Right after I close the rift, Bull.  I don’t know if a bandage will hamper my ability and I’d rather not have to wrap it up twice.”  His companions nodded their heads in agreement but he could see Dorian frowning at the amount of blood flowing from his palm.

Without being asked, Iron Bull grabbed the Inquisitor around his waist and hefted him onto his feet.  The Inquisitor’s face paled with the sudden movement and he used his good hand to grab onto the Qunari’s arm to steady himself.

“Let me at least heal your shoulder,” requested Dorian as he rose to his feet, struggling to feel useful after his healing magic betrayed him.  “I should be able to do that without interfering with your hand.”

“Are you sure that’s wise?” questioned Blackwall, inputting his two cents while still keeping an eye out for any additional threats.

The Inquisitor noticed the doubt echoed in Dorian’s eyes so he shifted his good hand to the mage’s arm in reassurance.  “Of course, _ma vhenan_.  We’ll both know pretty fast if it’s going to work.”

Dorian placed a single finger lightly on the swollen shoulder and summoned his magic, restricting it to the torn muscle and strained joint.  His gray eyes stared intently at the elf, looking for any hint of pain.  Instead he saw the lines of tension ease on the Inquisitor’s face as the elf exhaled with relief.  He withdrew slowly as Kestrel’s blue eyes found his, a smile on his lips.

“Thank you.  I was concerned I’d have to wear a sling.  Pretty difficult to use a bow with one of those,” the Inquisitor joked, squeezing the mage’s arm in appreciation.  He was in little pain now since his hand had gone numb.

“Let’s get you to the rift before you bleed out,” grumbled Blackwall, leading the way to the glowing tear in the air.  Bull and Dorian hovered close to the Inquisitor on his flanks, ready to defend him (or possibly catch him).

“You two are like worried mother hens.  I’ll be fine once we get this rift closed and my hand patched up.”  The Inquisitor waved the two men off as he step forward to face the gateway of the Fade.  Extending his bleeding hand, an arch of green power sprang from him and connected to the fissure.  He winced as blood was pulled from his wound into the opening as he struggled to close the hole in the sky in his weakened state.  He was glad his back was to his companions so they couldn’t see his strained attempted.  With a satisfying racket, the rift suddenly popped out of existence, successfully sealed.

His legs gave out but Iron Bull was nearby to catch him.  Instead of falling back on his butt, the Qunari helped him down to his knees.  Blackwall was already prepared with bandages and carefully began wrapping the Inquisitor’s bleeding hand.

“We should return to Skyhold.  Although it appears you still have the capability to close rifts, we should have a medic look at your hand and Solas look at your mark to ensure nothing’s been affected.”

Kestrel opened his mouth to protest but Dorian voiced his agreement with Blackwall.  “Definitely.  That Terror wanted your hand.  It went directly for you when it was able to, Kes.  I don’t think your wound was an accident.”

“Agreed,” chimed in Iron Bull.

The Inquisitor sighed as he examined his newly dressed hand.  “You all worry too much but…it looks like I’m outnumbered.  Let’s head back.”


	2. Chapter 2

They made good time on their journey back by utilizing Inquisition camps and refreshed mounts, returning to Skyhold within the week.  Bull and Blackwall departed after Dorian assured that he would take Kestrel to the surgeon and Solas, even though the Inquisitor continued to protest that his hand felt fine.

The medic was the first stop and Dorian had to literally drag the elf into the building they had established for the wounded.  Kestrel kept the visit as short as possible.  He was extremely agitated around doctors due to a terrible experience he had suffered through when he was younger which led him to prefer a simple healing potion or mage to heal his injuries. 

He smiled rigidly and nodded as the surgeon told him the wound would scar since he didn’t have it stitched but otherwise she gave him a clean bill of health.  Kestrel bolted from the building as soon as he was cleared, leaving Dorian to catch up to him as he regained his composure near the tavern.

“Good thing I’m not a doctor, I couldn’t stand it if you avoided me like that,” he murmured jokingly into the elf’s ear as he walked up behind him. 

“Y-You have no idea how much I…fear them,” he stammered a reply, still trying to calm his rapid breathing.

“Are you okay, Kes?”

“I’ll be fine.  So long as you don’t make me go back in there.”

“Well, let’s see if Solas has any insight into what happened with your hand and once he’s completed his serious elf business, I’ll personally bandage your hand after a wonderfully relaxing and long bath.  No more doctors.”  He wrapped his arm around the Inquisitor and kissed the edge of his pointed ear.

Kestrel exhaled his tension in a huff and leaned against the mage.  “Agreed, _ma vhenan_.”

                 

* * *

 

 

Solas was examining his mural with his hands clasped behind his back when Dorian and Kestrel entered.  He turned around at their approach, raising an eyebrow in a silent question.

“To what do I owe the pleasure?” he asked of the two.

“Kes was purposefully attacked by a Terror in the Emerald Graves.  It went straight for his hand and sliced it open,” Dorian answered.

Approaching the pair, he carefully accepted the Inquisitor’s hand, palm up.  “I assume healing magic did not work on the wound?”  He looked pointedly at Dorian.

“How did you-?”

“One, his hand is obviously still damaged and two, it’s not surprising that his connection to the Fade would interfere with a healing attempt.  Magic does not work predictably in the Fade and since his mark is a connection to that realm, the closer you try to use magic around it, the more it will affect the outcome.”

“That would’ve been useful to know,” grumbled the mage. 

Solas shrugged in response before his eyes shifted back to the Inquisitor.  “I’m going to probe your mark and the injury with my magic to determine if there was any damage done by the demon.”

Kestrel nodded his head, tensing in anticipation of pain like he had experienced with Dorian’s magic. 

Closing his eyes, Solas held Kestrel’s hand and maneuvered his palm directly over the crossroads of the gash and the mark.  Green tendrils of magic sprouted from his hand and pierced the Inquisitor’s skin but despite his worries, Kestrel’s hand only tingled in response. 

His examination was over as a few moments and he released the Inquisitor’s hand, clasping his own behind his back.  “I don’t sense any negative impact to your mark.  If anything, it appears your connection to the Fade has strengthened slightly much like after you started closing rifts and your power to control them grew after you first obtained the mark.”

Not realizing he was holding his breath, Kestrel exhaled in relief.  “ _Ma serannas_ , Solas.”

He nodded his head his head in response.

“Bath time, _amatus_!” murmured Dorian with a grin, pleased with the outcome of the situation too.  He eagerly grabbed Kestrel’s healthy hand and pulled him along.

 

* * *

 

 

After a long, heated bath, even longer spent with Dorian in the bath and the bed, and a short return to the bath to get cleaned up, Kestrel had never felt so relaxed in his entire life.  They returned to the bed, ready to sleep this time.  He hummed with contentment as he nuzzled the tip of his nose against Dorian’s bare chest.

“ _Ma vhenan_ ,” the elf purred, wrapping his newly wrapped hand and arm around the mages waist.

Dorian ran his fingers through Kestrel’s hair as he said, “You had me worried.  Don’t do that again.”

The elf rested his good hand on the man’s chest before resting his chin on top of it, blue eyes finding Dorian’s gray ones.  “You know that’s not possible.”

The mage sighed.  “It would be if you’d just stay locked up in your room all the time.  I’d ensure you would never want to leave.”  Dorian smirked, fingers brushing lightly over the tip of Kestrel’s pointed ear.

“Mmmm…as enticing as that sounds, I doubt we want Thedas overrun by Corypheus and his minions.”

“That _would_ put a damper on our alone time…”  He exhaled dramatically, making the ends of his curled mustache quiver.  “I suppose I will have to continue to follow you to those dreadfully lovely locations all over Thedas just to guarantee your safety.  Especially any environ that gets my feet wet.  You know those are my favorite.”

Kestrel grinned at Dorian’s sarcasm.  “You know…if you hate it so, a mage is a mage.  I could just bring Vivienne or Solas along and save you the trouble.”

Dorian snorted, waving his hand in between them as he dismissed the other’s words.  “There are a variety of points I could use to argue with you about that statement but I’ll use the most influential.”  The Inquisitor playfully rolled his eyes at the Tevinter’s wordy rebuttal.  “You know Vivienne hates getting her feet wet even more than I do so I doubt she’d agreed to follow you everywhere and Solas – well, while I’ll admit he has some unique magic techniques and doesn’t have the same reluctance about traipsing through damp lands, I’m a significantly better conversationalist.”

“Hmm…”  Kestrel pretended to give the matter some consideration as Dorian watched him with a confident smirk.  “I’ll have to sleep on it.  Perhaps I prefer to leave you here to keep my bed and bath warm in anticipation of my return.”

The mage’s eyes narrowed as he held out his hand, palm up.  A small flame appeared and dance between his fingers as he murmured, “I’ll keep them warm alright.”

Kestrel laughed and sat up, carefully cupping his hands around Dorian’s presented one, closing his fingers so the fire dispersed.  “You know I’m only joking, _ma vhenan_.  I’d never leave you behind.”  He leaned forward to kiss the mage’s fist before continuing with a serious expression.  He gaze fell to the bed, all levity gone as his voice dropped to a whisper.  “You’re the only thing that keeps me moving forward sometimes.”

Fingers pressed underneath his chin, urging his head up so their eyes could meet.  “ _Amatus_ …”  One word said everything: the support, the guidance, and the love he offered to the Inquisitor. 

They had never exchanged the words “I love you” but Kestrel felt it in that moment.  He felt his mouth open, threatening to speak those three words that would take their relationship to the next level but he hesitated.  He was left gaping like a fish, mouth opening and closing with no sound.  His cheeks flushed a furious red.

Dorian chuckled as he leaned forward to bring his lips within a few inches of the elf’s.  “I love that I can still make you speechless.  And blush as red as an apple.”  Closing the distance between them suddenly, his mouth found Kestrel’s and dominated passionately.  Just as quickly he pulled away, leaving the elf breathless in addition to his wordless state.  He shifted to his side of the bed and lay down.  “Goodnight, Kes,” he murmured with a smirk, closing his eyes to go to sleep. 

It took more than a few moments for the Inquisitor to recover his senses which was long enough for the mage to actually doze off and start softly snoring.  Kestrel watched the man’s chest rise and fall with deeper breaths with a small smile.  He wasn’t sure why he struggled to voice his true feelings to Dorian but he had a feeling he already knew how he felt.  Lying down next to the mage, he rested his head on his bare chest and draped his arm over his waist.  The Tevinter shifted enough to wrap his arm around the elf and pull him close.  Kestrel fell asleep to the steady beating of Dorian’s heart.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is a long chapter. Poor Kes. T_T

He held his breath as he watched the rabbit ten feet away from him chewing on the grass, oblivious to his presence.  Struggling against the pull the bow string generated, he released his arrow before he had a chance to aim and the arrow landed several feet from its intended target.  Startled into action, the rabbit scampered off into the underbrush.  Kestrel sighed while standing from his crouched position and walked over to retrieve the projectile.  His stomach rumbled with the thought of another night without meat.

Although he was only 10 years old, the Keeper had encouraged him to take a short hunting trip into the woods around their Clan in order to strengthen his skills.  The forest was safe from predators and humans very rarely ventured into their territory for fear of upsetting the tentative peace they had between their people.  Kestrel had embraced her suggestion with enthusiasm, finding no fear in the trees.  He longed to be a Hunter and knew that wasn’t possible unless he improved his archery skills.

Slinging his bow over his shoulder, he headed deeper into the woods in search for a meal.  Sunlight still filtered through the treetops so he knew he still had a few hours left for another attempt. 

Kestrel found a day-old trail belonging to a ram and decided to follow it while he searched for more recent signs of life.  He detoured when he noticed more recent indications of a nug rooting around and wandered deeper into the woods.  Before he knew it, he had spent the last remaining hours of sunlight without any success.  His keen elven eyesight allowed him to press on despite the darkness and the thought of another night without a warm meal helped motivate him to continue.

When the forest suddenly silenced around him, he froze.  Voices speaking in a foreign language trickled through the trees.  There were at least two distinct voices, a man and a woman, accompanied by the crackling of a campfire.  His ears oriented on the sound as he turned to face the noises.  Curiosity won out over his better judgement and he found himself creeping quietly towards the light, bow in hand.  He had never seen anyone but an elf since he wasn’t old enough to leave the woods for the Clan’s trading trips into Wycome.  Even then, there were only a few who were allowed on those excursions and unless he had a better understanding of Common and became a full-fledged Hunter, he had no chance of being selected.

He moved close enough to make out two humans in common clothes enjoying a rabbit over the spit.  Kestrel’s mouth watered and his stomach growled with hunger at the thought of a hot meal.  He was so distracted by his hunger that he misplaced his foot on top of a branch and it snapped with a very audible “crack”.

The man immediately stood up, eyes scanning the trees.  The elf stiffened, desperately willing himself to blend in with his surroundings but the firelight reflected off of his night vision and he was quickly spotted.  The man shouted and pointed directly at him, reaching for his dagger around his waist.  The woman screamed in fear and scrambled behind her companion for safety.

 _[Run]_ commanded a voice in Kestrel’s mind as the human aggressively approached him, weapon drawn.  Terror made his blood run cold.

The elf immediately spun around and took off, blindly running through the trees.  His heart pounded in his ears as he sprinted the fastest he ever had in his life, fueled by the warnings his Keeper had passed along about the evil actions mankind was capable of, especially against elves.

In his terrified state, Kestrel’s foot caught on an exposed tree root causing him to fly forward full speed into a massive tree trunk.  He cried out in pain and surprise as he slammed shoulder first into the giant block of wood.  He heard something in his shoulder snap before his head followed the momentum and also banged against the trunk, busting his upper lip.  He slumped to the ground, unconscious.

 

* * *

 

 

Kestrel woke in a daze to find himself lying on the forest floor, shoulder aching and head throbbing.  He tried to use his hands to help him sit up but the movement caused him to cry out in agony as pain lanced through his shoulder.  It was only after he tried to wipe the tears from his eyes that he realized his wrists were bound together with rope.  A shadow blocked out the light from a nearby fire and the elf’s eyes immediately shifted to the source.

The man who had chased after him before now stood over him with the same dagger brandished.  He waved it around as he spoke in a foreign tongue.  Even though Kestrel couldn’t understand the majority of the words, he could tell by his tone that he was angry. 

“Knife-ear…kill…!”  The man suddenly grabbed him by the shirt and yanked him into a sitting position, before immediately dropping his hold with a look of disgust.

Fear overwhelmed and his body began to tremble as he thought of all of the possible scenarios of his fate.  He tuned out the berating man since he didn’t understand him as his eyes welled up with tears for the second time in the span of a few minutes.  Chances were this human was going to kill him or sell him into slavery.  He would never see his Clan again and none of his people would ever know what happened to him.

The woman appeared next to the man and placed a delicate hand on his arm, quieting him.  “…kid…” she murmured.  After she voiced a few soft words, he stepped away with a grumble, sheathing his blade.  She crouched by Kestrel and smiled.  The expression reaching her hazel eyes as she offered a canteen of water.  The elf’s eyes darted from her kind countenance to the man pacing on the other side of the fire and back again, unsure if he could trust her gesture.  She continued to hold out the container, patiently waiting for Kestrel to decide what he wanted to do.

It was possible the drink was poisoned but he figured that wouldn’t put him into a worse situation than he already was in and he hoped that whatever she was offering might sooth his throbbing head.  He reached out for the canteen and immediately flinched as his shoulder radiated pain, quickly withdrawing his arms back into himself.

“…drink…water…” the woman cooed at him as she inched forward, bringing the container close to his mouth.  Understanding her meaning, Kestrel placed his mouth on the opening and allowed her to tilt it until water hit his lips.  He gulped eagerly, finding himself suddenly thirsty.  She allowed him to drink his fill before she pulled the canteen away, still smiling.

Kestrel offered a diminutive smile in return before their moment was interrupted by the man returning.  He irately gestured towards the elf while talking to the woman.  She protested back, furiously shaking her head.  The man threw up his hands and sighed loudly in frustration before reaching for Kestrel.  The elf retreated feebly, unable to avoid the man seizing his wounded shoulder and wrenching him to his feet.  The sudden agony he experience caused him to blackout, falling limp in the man’s arms.

 

* * *

 

 

A tickle in Kestrel’s nose caused him to sneeze, jolting him awake.  The sudden movement tugged at his shoulder causing him to exclaim in pain.  His eyes flew open as they began to water and he found himself face to face with an older, pot-bellied human who was holding a smoking herb in front of him.  He went to wave the offensive smoke away but found that both of his wrists were bound to the chair he found himself sitting in.  His legs were similarly unresponsive leading him to believe they were also strapped down.  Kestrel’s eye darted past the man to take in his surroundings and the potential for any escape. 

They were alone in a small hut adorned with a variety of herbs both fresh and dried hanging off the walls which were probably the secondary assailant to his sensitive nose.  The room was sparsely decorated with a cot on one side and a table and short shelf on the other side.  Metal tools were organized precisely on the top of both surfaces while books cluttered the shelves.

 _[Panic]_ ordered the same voice as before and Kestrel felt his chest tighten and his breathing rate increase.  He strained against the leather straps that held him down, doing his best to ignore the screaming soreness stemming from his shoulder. 

The man grabbed the elf’s chin, bringing Kestrel’s gaze forward to his brown eyes and subduing his thrashing.  Once he had his attention, he released his hold and patted his chest as he said “Doctor Alby”.  He continued with a brief explanation with hand gestures but Kestrel only understood pieces through their language barrier.  “Help…elf…bad break…”  The man moved closer, placing both hands on his wounded shoulder.  Kestrel tensed and couldn’t help the small whimper that escaped him.

Applying increasing pressure, his collar bone was forced back into alignment with an audible “snap”.  A strangled cry worked itself free before Kestrel passed out from the agony.

 

* * *

 

 

Kestrel woke several hours later lying on the single cot in the hut in darkness.  His shoulder, immobilized by a sling around his arm, throbbed but didn’t ache like before much to his relief.  He struggled to sit up one handed but halted when he felt a heavy pull on his ankle and heard the jingling of metal.  When no other sound was made, Kestrel finished pulling himself into a sitting position and quickly felt around his ankle.  Cool metal greeted his fingertips and he followed the iron band to a chain that was anchored into the ground.

He pulled futilely on the fetter, not concerned with the racket he was generating as the chain clanked against itself.

“Shhhh,” muttered Alby from the doorway, his face lit with a candle he held.  Kestrel hadn’t heard him approach with all of the noise he was making and he froze.  The medic approached him slowly, offering a plate of food.  The elf ignored it and stood, pointing past the man to the open doorway behind him.  Alby stared at him blankly, not understanding what he was gesturing at.

Kestrel frowned in frustration as he strained to remember the word in common tongue he was looking for.  “Ah!” he exclaimed as the name came to him.  “Home!  Home!”

The man scowled at him and curtly shook his head, thinning blond hair dancing with the movement.  “No.”  Without another word he placed the plate of food on the table and left the hut.

Kestrel wasted no time testing the limits of the chain.  He found he could reach the four edges of the hut but go no further.  Next he searched for something to free himself with or arm himself with but the tools on the table had been removed and the few furnishing were made of wood and twine.  He threw the plate of food out the door in a mixture of despair and anger.

 _[Remember this, Inquisitor?  Remember the fear?  You know what is going to happen]_ a voice resonated in his mind.  The boy froze, head whipping around looking for the source of the voice _._   And why did it call him Inquisitor?  It felt oddly right and that feeling contrasted drastically with the feeling of dread he was struggling against.  _[You’re trapped with no escape.]_

Kestrel cried out and griped his head with his hands, sinking to his knees in the middle of the room.  He knew the voice was right.  It echoed his worst fears.

 

* * *

 

 

The next several days passed without event.  Alby would visit him twice a day with food and to check on his shoulder, taking notes in a leather-skinned notebook.  He seemed pleased with the progress and he treated Kestrel kindly enough but the elf had no idea why he was still being held like a prisoner.  Anytime he asked for “home”, the man would just shake his head and go about his business observing him.

Kestrel knew his situation was about to change for the worse when the doctor visited him the following morning dressed in a heavy leather apron that covered his whole front.  It reminded him of what his Clan’s butcher wore when carving meat.  He instinctively shied away from the man as he approached him until the backs of his calves hit his cot.  All kindness was gone as Alby grabbed his arm and forced Kestrel into the single chair in the hut. 

“No…no…go home!” Kestrel pleaded in common. 

His cries fell on deaf ears as the doctor secured his arms to the chair with ropes.  “Shh,” Alby hushed forcibly as he withdrew a dagger from his belt. 

The cries turned to whimpers as Kestrel’s blue eyes, wet with tears, followed the blade as it approached his arm.

The doctor cut through the fabric of his shirt and yanked it up to his elbow, leaving the skin below exposed.  The elf could do nothing as the weapon sliced through the flesh of his forearm, leaving red and immense pain behind in its wake.  The most disturbing part of the ordeal was the fact that Alby watched Kestrel’s reaction to the pain instead of what he was doing.  Once he lifted the dagger away and wiped it on his apron, he went straight to his notebook and started taking notes.  He sat down on the cot and observed the wound, writing furiously.

“Why…?” Kestrel sobbed, seeking some explanation for the torture.

The doctor was quiet until the bleeding eventually tapered off, leaving the elf’s arm coated in crimson.  He made one final note before shifting his gaze from the wound to his captive’s face.  “I don’t know how much of this you’ll understand but your people heal faster than we do yet no one has documented the differences.  I have seen many human wounds but have never had an elf to study or one of their wounds to examine.  Perhaps with adequate study, we can find out what allows you to heal faster and implement that in the human medical field.  Your sacrifice will help further our knowledge of your kind and perhaps benefit us in the process.”

Kestrel only understood a few words here and there and burst out into tears, the pain and the situation overwhelming him.

Alby ignored his weeping and prepared a needle and thread, taking to the task of stitching up the gash he’d caused.  The elf only sniffled as the needle pricked his skin repetitively, the area mostly numb.  He then poured a strong smelling alcohol over the wound, summoning a hiss from the boy.  Once he finished wiping down the area, he released Kestrel from the chair, knowing the ankle chain would keep him from going very far. 

_[This is just the start, Inquisitor.  You know this.  The worst is yet to come.]_

Without another word, Alby left the elf to his imprisonment and the voice inside his head.

 

* * *

 

The rest of the week followed in the same pattern as before the trauma with daily meals, observation, and note-taking.  Kestrel allowed the wound to be poked and prodded, fearing if he resisted that he would be restrained again.  Just as the ache in his stitched arm started to subside, Alby appeared in his leather apron before sunrise. 

Kestrel was still asleep and didn’t realize he was being carried to the chair until it was too late.  He woke with a start when he felt the fabric of his other sleeve tear.  The blade tore into his skin inciting another yelp of pain from the elf before he even had a chance to collect his wits.

Alby pulled a small glass bottom from his apron, removed the stopper, and held it to Kestrel’s mouth.  It smelled faintly of elfroot and he opened his mouth without protest, not caring what the concoction contained.

Almost immediately his pain subsided in his freshly cut arm as the flesh knitted itself back together.  His aching collarbone and other arm also stopped bothering him.  Kestrel perked up and examined his arms, amazed that only a faint scar remained as evidence as to what had happened.

Alby nodded as he witnessed the elf’s response to the potion, turning to his notebook once the process was done to document the results.

Kestrel felt better than he had since he’d first arrived in this prison and couldn’t keep from smiling.  Maybe since he was given a healing potion, the human was done with his experiments?  He prayed to Mythal that was true.

_[There are no gods here to help you.]_

Closing his book and setting it aside, Alby retrieved another flask from his apron and again held it up to the elf’s lips.  This one smelled unfamiliar and faintly sour causing Kestrel to hesitate.  Frowning, the doctor pinched his nose shut until he was forced to open his mouth to breath.  He quickly poured in the liquid - which tasted even worse than it smelled – and quickly clamped the elf’s mouth shut and lifted his chin, forcing it down his throat.

The solution burned all the way down and left the elf gasping for air.  As Kestrel struggled to breath past the pain, the doctor freed him from the chair and departed.

The next several days were spent in absolute agony.  He couldn’t get out of his cot and soaked through the blanket within the first few hours with sweat.  His innards twisted and screamed in protest at whatever had been forced into him, leaving Kestrel to spend each day and night writhing in pain.  He became delirious after the first day and only briefly noted Alby stopping in to observe each day and forcing him to drink water.  By the third day he wished he would just die already.

It wasn’t until that night that he gained relief by the doctor forcing another healing potion into him.  Again his pain was gone within minutes of ingesting the liquid and he passed out in relief, finally able to gain some much needed rest.

 

* * *

 

 

The doctor returned to their previous routine of bringing by food twice a day but Kestrel stayed far away from him and only approached the food after he departed.  Several more days passed without incident, leaving the elf to wonder why this was happening to him.  Did his Clan even notice his absence?  Were they looking for him?  He didn’t even know where he was compared to his people and each passing day increased his despondence and fear of what he believed the inevitable outcome to be.

_[You know no rescue is coming.  The only uncertainty is how death will come but you can make it certain.]_

“Shut up!” he shouted out loud in elvhen as he started to destroy anything he could get ahold of in the shack.  He tore down the dried herbs, flipped his bed, threw the books on the shelf out the door, and screamed at the top of his lungs.  Suddenly exhausted, he slumped to his knees, crying.  The voice in his head was growing stronger and he was having a difficult time ignoring its words of despair.

 

* * *

 

 

The next time Alby approached him wearing his leather apron, Kestrel withdrew as far away as he could until he was against the way of the hut.

“Please…don’t…” he begged, holding his hands up in front of him to ward the doctor away.  His petite 10-year old elven frame was dwarfed by the bigger man as he ignored the plea.  He grabbed the elf’s left wrist with both hands and moving his grip in opposite directions snapped the delicate bones.

Kestrel screamed louder than he ever had before as his face lost all color, body rigid in horror and anguish.  His locked knees and Alby’s hold were the only things that kept him upright.

He grabbed the elf’s good wrist and yanked him back to the chair, strapping both arms down despite the broken wrist.  Kestrel fought unreasonably to stay conscious, the suffering nearly overwhelming him as his head lolled from side to side.  His vision was hazy and he struggled to focus on Alby as he started speaking.

“You have been quite a resilient test subject, elf.  You have recovered quickly from gashes and survived poison for several days that would kill a human in one.  You heal almost immediately from an elfroot potion which is astounding.  The next step is to see how multiple fractures will impact your body’s healing process.  Will it still heal quickly if it has several broken bones to deal with?”

“Home…” he murmured, unable to understand what the doctor was talking about.

Alby just smiled dispassionately as he withdrew a hammer from his apron and lined it up over the elf’s femur.  The last thing Kestrel remembered was a blast of pain before blacking out.


	4. Chapter 4

  _[Do you really want to continue with this life, Inquisitor?]_ the voice questioned in his slumber. _[Just give up.  This life isn’t worth fighting for.]_

 _My life?_ he thought into the blankness of his mind.

_[It’s rife with struggles and fears and pain.  If you give up, it’ll all be over.  You won’t have to fight any more.]_

“ _Amatus_?” called a familiar voice from outside of the blackness.

 _Ma vhenan_ , he automatically thought in response, struggling against the darkness that enveloped him.  He did have something - some _one_ worth fighting for.

_[He can’t save you, Inquisitor.]_

Kestrel felt something grab his shoulders and start to shake him.

 _Yes! Him!  Dorian!_ He remembered, straining against the hands that held him.  _Let me go!  I must make it back to him!_

“Kes!  Wake up!”  One of the hands that gripped his shoulder released a small bolt of electricity into the elf, jolting him awake. 

Kestrel sat straight up, forehead banging into a hard surface that cried out in surprise and pain.  As his vision came into focus, he spotted Dorian straddling him but his upper body was leaning away from him, fingers dancing delicately over the bridge of his nose as blood trickled out of it.

“That must’ve been some dream…” he grumbled, blinking back the tears in his gray eyes caused by the impact.

“Dorian!  I-I’m so sorry!” Kestrel stammered, horrified he had hurt him.  He leaned forward to seize the mage’s face in his hands to assess the harm he’d caused.

“What’s the damage?” the mage asked as he let his hands drop, eyes staring into Kestrel’s green ones.

The elf grimaced.

“That bad, huh?”

“It’s broken, _ma vhenan_.  I’ll need to set it before you heal it so it doesn’t heal crooked,” he whispered in response, still mortified.

“I believe a crooked nose would break my ruggedly handsome meter so to spare everyone from their ensured fainting, do what must be done, _amatus_.”

Kestrel smiled at his words, relieved that he was joking about the situation.  He applied pressure to the jagged part of Dorian’s nose and snapped it back into place.  The mage inhaled sharply through his teeth but otherwise kept quiet.

After that, it was only a matter of a quick spell and the Tevinter was as good as new.  Using a nearby cloth, he wiped away the blood and turned his attention back to the Inquisitor.

“I’m so sorry, Dorian.  I…I was having a strange dream and having trouble waking up.  I…did you shock me?” Kestrel blurted out, suddenly recognizing the tingling in his shoulder.

“Apology accepted.  …And yes,” he answered matter-of-factly.

Kestrel’s eyes widened.

“What?  You weren’t waking up despite me being on top of you.  Normally you’re more…responsive than that,” Dorian continued, smirking.  When he’d gained the response he was looking for with the Inquisitor’s flushed cheeks, he became serious.  “All joking aside, are you alright, _amatus_?  You were having a nightmare- crying out and thrashing about but you wouldn’t wake up.  What were you dreaming about?”

“It was more a memory of when I was younger.  It’s why I’m terrified of doctors,” Kestrel started to explain.

Dorian leaned forward and placed a soft, reassuring kiss on the elf’s lips when he paused before shifting out of his lap to sit beside him.  “Tell me,” he said, more of a request than a demand.

Half an hour later, Kestrel was finishing his tale with how he was saved.  “After weeks of torture, I’d given up any hope of being rescued.  That man had cut me, poisoned me, and broken multiple bones in my body and yet somehow I held on long enough for my Clan to find me.”  He paused and look over at Dorian, having been avoiding his gaze while he told the story.

The mage’s jaw and fists were clenched in fury and he growled out, “Please tell me that poor excuse for a human being is dead.”

Kestrel was surprised by the man’s vehemence.  He didn’t think he’d ever seen him so infuriated before.  “Harrier was the one who found me.  He ended that _shem_ with an arrow through his throat.”

Dorian exhaled in relief, the tension leaving his body.  “Good.”  His countenance shifted to one of regret, lips frowning and eyes narrowed.  “I’m sorry I forced you to visit the doctor.  If I had known-”

“But you didn’t, _ma vhennan_.  Besides, I’m fine.  That was 15 years ago and I’m no worse for the wear,” he interrupted, ready to be done with this uncomfortable topic.  It was a story that only a few knew about and Dorian was the first outside of his Clan to know.  That event had changed his life forever, both during and after, and it wasn’t something he wanted to dwell on.

Noticing the Kestrel’s defensiveness, he decided to change the topic.  Moving close, his fingers lightly grazed the elf’s tattooed brow as he cooed, “Have I told you recently how much I adore you?”

Having its desired effect, the Inquisitor blushed at the focused attention, managing to mutter through a grin, “Not as of this morning, you haven’t.”

“How about I show you how much I adore you,” Dorian murmured as his lips brush against the elf’s pointed ear eliciting a shiver from the smaller man.

“Yes…please…” Kestrel groaned, eyes closing as he felt teeth gently nibble his sensitive earlobe.  The talented mage made him promptly forget his disturbing dream and the even worse memories it had dredged up.

 

* * *

 

 

Kestrel had a rough rest of the week.  It started off with an all-out brawl between several mages and a group of templars.  One of the mages had recognized a templar from his Circle and accused him of abuse.  Rather than follow the proper channels of dispute, he’d rallied a force behind him and jumped the templar and his companions in the tavern of Skyhold.  Fortunately there are been no casualties but one templar would probably lose his sword hand to frostbite, another gained scars on his rear from healed second-degree burns, and several mages suffered broken bones.  Not to mention the normal tavern patrons who were caught in the crossfire.

As the Inquisitor, he’d been force to mediate the dispute which involved listening to the detailed and horrid claims against the templar.  Kestrel found the mentioned depravities too gruesome to chalk up to fabrication and had ruled the accused be sent to the dungeon until he could figure out what to do him.  The man had insisted the mage was mistaken, that it was some other templar (although he didn’t deny he came from the same Circle), but there was proof lacking on both sides.  Most of what he had heard from those around camp cited frivolous stories like “That templar never associated with mages so therefore he despises them” or “He always smiles when killing, especially Corypheus’ mages so he must want all mages dead”.

At the end of it all, he’d also had to punish the mage for the actions he took and sentenced him to assist Master Dennett in keeping the stables clean for several months, no magic allowed for assistance.

The whole process had taken several days and he’d been out late each night researching the dispute so instead of risk waking Dorian up, he’d crashed with Sera.  He also battled a consistent headache thanks to the blood bond he shared with the mage and the fact that he was too far away from him.  He missed Dorian desperately and sought him out as soon as the sentencing was completed. 

He entered into the keep through its side entrance where the bottles of exotic liquor were stored along with the Inquisition’s vault.  Slipping into stealth as he neared the entrance to the main floor, he breezed by anyone who would’ve otherwise detained him.  All he wanted was to spend a quiet moment alone in his heart’s arms. 

When he neared Dorian’s normal reading nook in the library from the stairwell, he found him leaning against a bookshelf and smirking.  Surely he couldn’t see through his stealth?  But no, his gray eyes weren’t directed at Kestrel and as he turned the corner, he found the mage’s attention on someone else.  He recognized him as Fairbanks from the Emerald Graves, a man who had been protecting a group of refugees against the Freeman of the Dales.  They seemed deep in conversation so he remained hidden as he listened.

“A gold-plated bath house?  Surely that can’t be true.  And here I thought Orlais was extravagant!”

Dorian laughed pleasantly before he leans close to the man, whispering conspiratorially, “It’s actually quite genius as gold wards against corrosion but they’d rather you think it was for pure opulence sake.”

“Ah!  Very smart.  Who’d have thought Tevinter had brains on top of their superiority-complex and forced extravagance.”

“Forced extravagance?  Orlais is abundant in its lavishness too, mind you.”

Fairbanks held up his hands in front of him in a placating gesture with a wide grin on his face.  “Agreed.  Maybe one of these days I’ll travel to the heart of decadence in the Orlesian Empire – Val Royeaux.”  The man sighed as he lowered his hands.  “Speaking of trips, I should be returning to my little neck of the woods shortly.  I’ve already turned in my report to the spymaster and I think I managed to persuade Lady Josephine to keep my heritage a secret for a bit longer.”

Dorian closed the distance between the two of them and clasped a hand on the man’s arm.

Kestrel’s hand shot out and gripped the bookshelf he was next to, fingernails digging into the wood.  What was _his_ Dorian doing touching another man?  Sure, it could just be a friendly gesture but it could also be something much more.  

“Of course.  Although once this all settles, I’ll treat you to a drink in Val Royeaux and Minrathous then you can decide for yourself which is more overdone,” Dorian said, squeezing Fairbanks’ arm before letting go.

His stomach clenched at the mage’s words.  Now he wanted to get drinks with another man in exotic locations?  Fairbanks was attractive and confident not to mention human.  He didn’t deny that his race would be held against Dorian if he ever decided to return to Tevinter.  He was even from noble birth. 

Kestrel felt his eyes well up, now relying on the bookshelf to keep him upright.  He couldn’t lose Dorian yet he had no right to stop him if he were interested in someone else.  Although they’d been together for many months, neither one had said “I love you”.  He knew what was holding him back – a secret he’d yet to share with the mage – but maybe Dorian wasn’t as committed to him as he thought and that’s what kept him from speaking those words?

“How generous of you, Dorian.  I’ll be sure to hold you to it!” Fairbanks said with a handsome smile as he turned to depart, heading down the stairs the Inquisitor had used.

Kestrel struggled to reign in his doubt and dry his eyes as he watched Dorian shake his head with a grin at the departing man before returning to his chair.  Elbow resting on its arm, he leaned over to look out the nearby window with his chin resting in his palm.  The light emphasized his attractive facial features as he idly curled his mustache through his fingers.  Creators, he was beautiful.  He knew he loved this man but couldn’t voice those feelings, not without telling him everything and that…he wasn’t sure he was ready to do that.

Pushing those thoughts aside, he took a deep breath and allowed his stealth to drop.  Dorian didn’t notice him in the shadows until he stepped into the mage’s lighted alcove.  Immediately his ponderous expression brightened and he rose from his seat, embracing the smaller elf.

“ _Amatus_!”

The comforting scent of sandalwood and brandy enveloped Kestrel as he buried his face into the man’s neck.  He hugged Dorian tightly, finding himself close to tears again.

“Kes?  …Is everything okay?”

His innocent question laced with concern caused him to break.  How could he have ever doubted Dorian?  Crying, his body shook in his partner’s arms with each muffled sob.  Would he continue to comfort him if he knew the truth about him?

Dorian murmured softly into his ear as he rubbed Kestrel’s back, “I heard about the trial you had to judge between the mage and the templar.  The Ferelden Circles really are cruel although I suppose their situation can be likened to the slaves in Tevinter.  At least the Circle mages have you to support those who were not corrupted by Corypheus now.  You have also seen the templars through everything that has happened and, for the most part, at least for those that are willing, you’ve unified everyone.  You’re doing an amazing job, _amatus_.  You’ve gain the trust of so many and we all believe in you.  Don’t doubt yourself or the decisions you have to make.”

Kestrel’s sobs quieted as he listened to the mage’s words.  Wracked with guilt, both because he misinterpreted why he was upset and because he professed such faith in him, he found himself pulling away from the consoling embrace.

“ _Ma vhenan_ , I…there’s something I need to tell you,” he spoke, voice rising barely above a whisper.  He didn’t have the strength to meet Dorian’s questioning gaze.

Warm hands cupped his face and brushed the wet trails from his cheeks.  “Unless it’s life-threatening, I think it can wait until after you get some sleep.  Although you’re still the most attractive man in all of Thedas, you currently look like death walking.”

The elf blinked in surprise and lifted his eyes, finding a small grin and concerned gray eyes directed at him.  He smiled weakly in response and allowed himself to accept the mage’s excuse to delay their difficult conversation for another day.  “Thanks, I think?” he managed to retort, lifting his hands to hold those that held his face.

They shared a quiet kiss, hidden in his niche before retiring to Kestrel’s room.  At least he was guaranteed one last night with Dorian before he might lose him forever.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First off, this is another long chapter. Also, it's rife with lots of rape/non-con so proceed with caution.
> 
> As a side note, for some reason I like the idea of all of Clan Lavellan being names after birds, hence their odd names. :)

His lips tasted sweet like the berries they had been sharing.  Kestrel wanted more so his tongue quested forward, running over the other’s honeyed mouth and begging entrance.  His companion complied and as his lips parted, he leaned back onto the grass, pulling the elf with him.  Their hands began roaming over each other’s bodies, exploring before they started pulling in a more demanding nature.

Someone cleared their throat behind them and instantly both boys stilled.  Kestrel quickly pushed himself off of the other elf - cheeks flushed with desire and embarrassment - to face whoever had interrupted them.

“Harrier has requested you, Kestrel.  Do not keep him waiting,” the messenger ordered.  Kestrel recognized him as one of the full-fledged Hunters who served under Harrier.

“O-Of course, _hahren_ ,” he managed, clearly abashed. 

Nodding his head at the appropriate response, his superior marched off, leaving the two elves alone again.

“Creators, I had no idea you were such a good kisser!” his kissing culprit whispered excitedly.

Kestrel’s blush spread to his ears and he turned meekly to the other boy.  “What…?  I-I had no idea either, Kite.  That…that was my first kiss.”

A grin spread over Kite’s fine features as he closed the distance between them.  His warm breath smelled of those sweet berries as he murmured, “Let’s not let that be our last, okay?  Come see me at the archery grounds once you’re done meeting Harrier.”

Kestrel had a hard time taking his eyes off of the other elf’s lips as he spoke and nodded automatically in response.  He wanted another taste of him and wouldn’t pass up that opportunity.

Kite chuckled and lightly shoved the stunned elf as he playfully said, “Now get going!  You know Harrier doesn’t like to be kept waiting!”

Knocked out of his daze, Kestrel scrambled to his feet with a silly smile.  He was only 16 but he had never felt so happy before.  It had taken him years to recover from his ordeal with the human doctor but he was now an apprentice Hunter and had become quiet skilled in his bow.  He didn’t doubt that in a few years he would be promoted to Hunter.  To top off his budding carrier, he had gotten closer to Kite after months of awkward conversations and touches and his heart swelled with the possibilities.

He ran through their Dalish home to Harrier’s aravel, arriving out of breath and praying he hadn’t made the man wait too long.  The flaps of the lead Hunter’s tent were closed and Kestrel announced his presence.  “ _H-Hahren_?” he questioned as he tried to catch his breath, clasping his hands behind his back in their standard resting pose.

“Enter, _da’len_ ,” a voice responded immediately from within.

Kestrel entered without hesitation and resumed his stance within the darkened room.  It took a moment for his blues eyes to adjust to the limited light offered by a few glowing orbs provided by their Clan’s enchanter.  They were rare and the fact that Harrier possessed several of them spoke to his rank within their Clan.

He spotted the older elf standing with his back to him, looking at some documents spread out on a simple wooden desk.  He wore the standard Dalish armor – chest piece, arm and shin bracers, and lappets over a cloth tunic - but the leather was embellished with gold stitching around the seams, making it shimmer in the low light.  The top part of his blonde hair was pulled back into a simple long pony tail leaving the shaved bottom half of his head exposed.

“Ran all the way here, did you?” he asked, voice deep and neutral.

“Yes, _hahren_.”

“Good.  You know I do not like to be kept waiting,” Harrier said as he turned around to face Kestrel.  His bright green eyes seemed to pin the younger elf in his place as he approached.  He was only 9 years his senior but he commanded attention wherever he went.

A firm hand grabbed Kestrel’s chin and forced it up so that their eyes would meet.  “How are you?” he inquired in a softer tone.

“I…I’ve been doing well.  My training has been progressing and I think I’ll be ready for the Hunter trials in the next year.  W-With your approval, of course, _hahren_.”  Kestrel squirmed under his piercing gaze by tapping his foot.

“And with apprentice Kite?”

“W-What?  What do you mean?”

Harrier sighed softly and released Kestrel’s chin, relaxing his posture as he retreated to the desk to rest his backside against it.  “You are my life ward, _da’len_.”

“I-I know I owe you my life.  Every living day I have is yours but I don’t understand why-” 

“Ever since that day that I rescued you, I have observed you closely to ensure that your life has not been wasted,” Harrier interrupted.  His back straightened and his jaw clenched before he continued, “Your life is mine and I will not have you fooling around with another apprentice, Kestrel!”  If the younger elf had been more experience, he would’ve recognized the jealousy in his voice. 

He flinched at the rage in the other’s tone.  “ _H-Hahren_ , I’m sorry…I didn’t mean to upset you,” he stammered, bowing his head in shame.

“Had I known you were expressing interest in such…supplementary activities, I would’ve talk to you sooner.”

Kestrel didn’t know what else to say and shuffled nervously from one bare foot to another, eyes on the grassy ground.  He would never do anything to intentionally upset his life bond and that meant cutting off relations with Kite now that Harrier had voiced his displeasure.  His shoulders slumped at the thought of his loss.

“Oh, little bird…” Harrier murmured into the elf’s ear, causing him to jump.  He hadn’t heard the Hunter move from his position across the room.  “Don’t be sad.  I have a much better match in mind for you,” he continued as he circled slowly around Kestrel, much like a wolf circling its prey.

“…But I…”

His words were interrupted as Harrier’s lips clashed against his.  They were suffocating and demanding but Kestrel was incredibly flattered that his Clan’s head Hunter was interested in him so he reciprocated, opening his mouth when the other dictated it with his forceful tongue.  An arm wrapped around his waist, trapping him against the taller elf with only his hands on his chest to keep an inch of distance between them.

 _[You’re trapped with no escape yet again, Inquisitor]_ said a familiar voice inside his head.

“Creators…” Harrier breathed, finally breaking off the kiss.  “Your lips are so sweet.  I’ve waited so long for this.”

“I-I…had berries…” he stuttered, stupefied.  He ignored the voice in his head even though it left him with an unexplainable feeling of dread.  Kestrel’s whole body flushed with the compliment from his superior.  The kiss wasn’t as pleasurable as his one with Kite was but it meant a lot more to him.  He’d looked up to Harrier for his entire life and now the man that he admired was actually interested in him in return.

“You enjoyed it too, didn’t you, little bird?” he purred, noticing Kestrel’s blush.

He didn’t know how else to respond besides nodding.

“Good.  You will return tomorrow at the same time so we can continue.  Oh, and bring some berries.”

Sensing he was dismissed, Kestrel bowed before turning to leave.  Before he had made it out of the tent however, a firm hand grabbed his arm.  Startled, he looked back to find his superior close and frowning at him.

“You will tell no one of what we’re doing, little bird.  If anyone asks, I’m providing you with…individualized training.  Understand?” Harrier whispered harshly, his fingers squeezing the other elf’s arm painfully.

“Yes!” he yelped in surprise.  “O-Of course, _hahren_.  I won’t tell anyone.”

Seeming satisfied, he released the elf’s arm and returned to his desk.

Rubbing his upper arm to sooth the skin that would most likely bruise, Kestrel darted out of the tent wondering what he’d got himself into.

 

* * *

 

 

Every day of the following weeks Kestrel kept to the same schedule.  Training in the morning, a mid-day meal, meeting Harrier in his tent for his “individualized training”, and returning to training which he continued until everyone gathered for their Clan meal. 

With newly found confidence, he exceled at his archery and hunting classes.  He even started putting more effort to his Common language learning and found it much easier to understand if he went into it without the frustration he’d initially held.  He was, after all, the only elf Harrier had ever shown interest in since he’d become their Clan’s lead Hunter.  The Keeper had tried to match him with several women around his age but he’d never expressed any interest in them.  Even if no one else knew, it was a secret that made Kestrel proud.

He found himself looking forward to their time together more and more.  Harrier could be a bit rough with his kisses and his roaming hands but he didn’t mind so long as it made the older elf happy with him.  He even discovered his body reacting to the other man’s needy touches and would take time in his bedroll each night to relieve himself before falling asleep.

 

* * *

 

 

“Ah!  Little bird, how I’ve missed you,” crooned Harrier, nuzzling the tip of his nose against Kestrel’s ear. 

The smaller elf smiled at his words as he murmured a soft “I missed you too” in return.

“I’ve heard about what you’ve been doing in your bedroll each night this week,” he continued pleasantly before his teeth nipped at the point of his ear.

Kestrel froze and he felt his face betray his embarrassment.

“And I think it’s unfair that you’ve been enjoying our ‘training’ sessions more than I have.”

“I-I’m sorry, _hahren_.  I…I…” he stammered, not knowing what else to say.

“You want to make me happy, don’t you, little bird?”  A delicate tongue ran along the ridge of his ear, leaving a warm trail that cooled in the air making Kestrel shiver.

“O-Of course!” he rushed out, face flushing further as his superior’s tongue caused his cock to stir underneath his tunic.  “Please…I want you to be happy, _hahren_.”

Harrier leaned away from Kestrel so he could meet his gaze.  The younger elf’s brow was furrowed in concern and his blue eyes were wide in disbelief, standing out against his blushing features.  “Good.  I know of a way you can make it up to me.  Get on your knees,” he said, holding the other’s anxious stare with his order.

Kestrel was too eager to comply and sank quickly to his knees.  How had he not thought about how Harrier would feel about his selfishly pleasing himself?  He looked up at him expectantly, waiting to be instructed on his next step.

“Mmm…so beautiful,” he purred as his fingers ran through the boy’s hair.  His other hand reached between the lappets of his leather skirt and pulled out his cock, holding it forward.  With his fingers curled in Kestrel’s hair, he urged him close to his half-hard member.  “I want you to kiss it with those sweet lips of yours, little bird.”

Kestrel licked his lips nervously, eyes darting between Harrier’s green gaze and his length in front of him.  _I can’t disappoint him again_ , he thought, determined as he leaned forward.  Tilting his head, he placed a tentative kiss on the side of the elf’s length.  The fingers in his hair tightened for a moment as he watched Harrier’s cock grow.  Placing another light kiss on the newly exposed length, he felt his own body responding to pleasing his superior.

“Yes…” he hissed in desire.  “Use your tongue on the tip, little bird.”  Harrier’s hand moved up his shaft and pulled back his foreskin, uncovering the smooth, ruddy tip to his cock.

Lips parted, Kestrel allowed his tongue to delicately brush against the pink peak.  His nose wrinkled in repulsion at the sweaty, salty taste but the other’s low moan compelled him to continue with several more licks.

“Put it in your mouth,” Harrier demanded quietly.  “You will not use your teeth, only your tongue and lips, understood?”

“Y-Yes, _hahren_ ,” he answered, not convinced that he wanted the elf’s cock in his mouth.  Would he be able to breathe?  Surely his superior wouldn’t hurt him and he did want to make him happy…

Committing himself, Kestrel closed his eyes and opened his mouth, taking the tip of Harrier’s length into it.  Trying to ignore the unpleasant taste, he swirled his tongue over the sensitive skin as ordered.  He was rewarded with a pleased moan from above him.

Now that his cock could stand on his own, Harrier moved his other hand to the back of the elf’s head to join its partner.  Once in position, he thrust, forcing his way deeper into the boy’s hesitant and inexperienced mouth.  He felt Kestrel’s hand grab his thighs in surprise as he was involuntarily shoved forward.

His cock suddenly hit the back of Kestrel’s throat and his felt himself start to choke.  Fingers squeezing Harrier’s thighs in a silent protest, he tried to move his head back but found the man’s hands kept it firmly in place.

“You’re doing amazing, little bird,” he groaned as he shifted his hips, easing up.  He allowed the younger elf a moment to breath before he thrust again, going deeper than before.  Ignoring the boy’s hands squeezing his legs in objection, he held his cock in place until he felt Kestrel’s throat constrict around it, trying to expel the intruding length.  With a moan, he pulled back again.

Kestrel took his opportunity to breathe as his eyes unwillingly leaked tears.  His own arousal was gone and he’d forgotten to use his tongue to add to the experience.  His only focuses now were trying not to vomit every time Harrier’s length hit the back of his throat and breathe every time he retreated.

He didn’t mind that the boy had forgotten to keep his tongue going.  There would be plenty more opportunities to teach him.  For the next several minutes, he used Kestrel’s mouth for his own pleasure.  Using his hands to push and his hips to drive, he forced himself deeper and deeper into the elf’s throat as he neared his climax. 

Once he’d manage to shove his entire cock all the way in, he trapped the elf in that position despite his struggling beneath him.  He loved the way Kestrel’s throat constricted around his member in desperation and with a sharp exclamation, he came, spurting his seed into the smaller elf.

As soon as he was released, Kestrel scrambled away from Harrier, coughing as he struggled to regain the air that was held from him through the thick substance in his mouth.  Before he had a chance to regain his composure, he felt a hand close around his neck.

“You will swallow it all, little bird,” commanded Harrier, squatting next to him.

Eyes wide, Kestrel forced himself to swallow, unable to control the look of disgust that washed over his features.  Pleased, his superior released him with a little laugh, allowing him to fall all the way to the grassy floor as he gasped for air.

“You did a good job making me happy today.  You should be quite proud of yourself.  I want you to work on using your tongue throughout, though.  Since this was your first time, you’re forgiven.  I expect you to return tomorrow at the same time for your lesson.”  Harrier tucked his now-flaccid cock back under his tunic and returned to his desk.

Kestrel scrambled to his feet and ran out of the tent, tears in his eyes.  On one hand he’d pleased his life bond which was his duty but on the other, he felt so used and dirty. 

 _[This is only the start.  You will suffer for years through this elf’s attentions]_ that voice responded to his unspoken feelings.

Ignoring the voice, he continued thinking.  Is this what it would be like every time? 

_[You already know the answer to that, elf.]_

If that were the case, wasn’t it a good thing he had to go through it with one of his elders instead of another apprentice like Kite? 

_[You delude yourself.  What happens next is all your fault.]_

He ducked behind a tree before anyone could see him, struggling to calm himself down as the voice in his head generated bottomless fear. 

No!  What he was doing was an honor.  Despite their life bond, Harrier could’ve chosen anyone else to be with and he had chosen him.  He would work at getting better at pleasuring his superior and showing his worth even if it left his throat raw and his stomach uneasy.

 

* * *

 

 

Several weeks had passed and Kestrel had excelled at his new skill.  Realizing that the better job he did made Harrier climax faster drove him to improve his techniques.  He no longer gagged when taking all of Harrier’s length into his mouth and he was learning how to keep his tongue going through the whole event.  What if he used his hands in time with his mouth?  He certainly didn’t know what else to do with them.

“Kestrel?” called a voice behind him, pulling him from his thoughts.

He turned around and found a smiling Kite running up to him.

“I haven’t seen you in ages!” he exclaimed, throwing his arms around Kestrel in a warm hug.  “You know…I missed you at the archery grounds after that kiss we had.”

That was because Kestrel had been avoiding him.  He didn’t want to upset Harrier and thought it was best to avoid the elf as much as possible.

“I’m so sorry!  My mother called me away for chores and I wasn’t able to get away to meet you.  I know you’ve been avoiding me because I stood you up…” Kite continued as he stepped back.  Were those tears in his eyes?

This elf was blaming himself for Kestrel avoiding him and he didn’t know what to say in response.

“I-I know you probably hate me but I had to tell you I was sorry.  I keep thinking back to that kiss…” he muttered through his tears.  “I-I just really like you, Kestrel.”

He was dumbfounded and stood still, even as Kite moved in close.

“I’ll make it up to you,” he whispered right before his lips found the stunned elf.

The kiss was salty from Kite’s tears but Kestrel found it sweet nonetheless.  Why were his kisses with Kite so different from his time with Harrier?  They were so delicate and loving while Harrier’s were…

“See?  How was that for an apology?” Kite asked with smile, tears gone.

“I…I can’t, Kite.  There’s…someone else and I can’t spend time with you anymore,” Kestrel said, unable to meet the elf’s honey-brown eyes.

“Someone else?  I’m sorry, okay?  You don’t need to make up excuses.  I want to give this a chance.”  He reached out to touch a tear that had escaped Kestrel’s eye without him knowing.  “Are you crying?”

“I said I can’t!” Kestrel shouted before shoving the other elf away.  Why was he crying?  Embarrassed, he took off running as Kite called after him.  He ran until he was out of breath and his tears had dried.  He knew he’d made the right decision but why did it feel so wrong?

 

* * *

 

 

He knew, he had to know.

Harrier circled Kestrel in silence, hands clasped behind his back as he looked the elf up and down with his penetrating eyes.  Even if he hadn’t had Kestrel remove his clothing - which was something he’d started to request recently before he had Kestrel start to please him – Kestrel would’ve felt naked in front of him.  He’d tried to drop to his knees once he was bare but Harrier had ordered him to remain standing.

“Do I not make you happy, little bird?” he asked softly from over Kestrel’s shoulder.

He knew better than to try to look at him but he didn’t know how to answer the question.  Normally if he remained silent, the older elf would keep speaking.

True to his form, Harrier continued with a sigh as he walked around, “I heard about your kiss with Kite earlier today.”  Without warning, he backhanded Kestrel, sending his sprawling on the floor.

“H-He kissed me, _hahren_!   I ran away from him as soon as I could, I swear!” Kestrel defended, clutching his aching cheek and feeling tears come to his eyes.

“Shhh…I can see you’re upset at what he did to you.  I believe you, little bird.  But, this has led me to do some thinking of my own.  Stand up.”

He slowly rose to his feet, tasting blood in his mouth where his lip had been split.  Part of him knew he’d bare that scar for the rest of his life. 

He dropped his eyes to the ground as his mind floundered.  He should have never let Kite close enough to kiss him.  Would this be the end of their relationship?  They would always be life bound unless the older elf decided to release him or Kestrel somehow managed to save his life but giving Harrier pleasure made him feel useful in the typically one-sided bond.

“Our relationship has been rather…biased.  You have pleased me greatly but I have done nothing for you.”  He ran a few fingers lightly over the elf’s bare forehead to draw the quiet elf’s gaze up.  It would still be a few years before he was old enough for his vallaslin.

“You owe me nothing, _hahren_!  I owe you everything.  You saved my life!  It is my honor to make you happy,” he objected, kneeling as he spoke so he could show the elf how much he yearned to satisfy him and repent for his mistakes.  Firm hands griped his upper arms before he could reach the floor and pulled him back up.

“So eager, little bird.  You really are a gift from the Gods.  Do not worry, I will not waste their precious present to me,” Harrier reassured, placing a gentle kiss on Kestrel’s cheek.  He smiled as he felt the elf exhale in relief.  “I only wish to please you in return.”

“Y-You do?”

“Of course.  Now, lie down on the bed, little bird.”

This was new.  Harrier had sometimes sat on his cot while receiving his blowjob but never had he invited Kestrel to lie down on it.  Enthusiastic and ready to comply, he did as he was told, hands clasped over his bare abs as he watched his superior undress next to him.  His cock started to harden, enjoying the show as Harrier’s lithe frame and defined muscles came into view.  Wondering what it would feel like to have his elder’s mouth around his length, his hand sought out his member and began stroking without realizing it.

“I see you’re ready for me, little bird,” he crooned as his hand slipped between Kestrel’s thighs and pushed them apart.  Once there was space, he knelt onto the cot between his legs.  “You’re going to enjoy this,” he whispered yet it came across more as an order than a statement. 

With one swift movement, Harrier lifted the elf’s legs and pushed them back on his chest, exposing his ass.  Holding them in place with one arm, his other hand ghosted down Kestrel’s cock, over his balls, and in-between his ass cheeks.

Halting his pumping of his cock, Kestrel swallowed hard as he felt a finger prod at his entrance.  This was not what he was expecting however he’d never had sex before and if Harrier said he was doing it for his enjoyment, then he had to trust him.

The finger teased the ring around his entry for a moment before forcing its way in.

Kestrel cried out in pain as the dry digit dug deeper into him.  His member shrunk with the sting.

“Shhh, little bird, you must relax.”

He didn’t know how to do that and Harrier didn’t allow him any time to adjust before he began thrusting his finger in and out.  After a few antagonizing moments, the assaulting digit withdrew and Kestrel found himself releasing a breath he didn’t realize he was holding.  Shutting his eyes, he tried to compel himself to calm down.

He wasn’t allowed long to recover before two fingers pressed their way back in, pulling another yelp of discomfort from him and causing his entire body to tense.  They followed the same rough, unpleasant plunging as before for several moments before again retreating. 

Kestrel felt the bed shift and opened his eyes to find Harrier rubbing some sort of oil along his length.  Realizing what he planned to do, he couldn’t stop himself from softly pleading, “Please, _hahren_.  D-Don’t.  I…I’m not ready.”

With a grunt of disinterest and a grim smile on his face, Harrier leaned forward and pressed his cock against Kestrel’s unprepared opening.  His hands seized the younger elf’s thighs and shoved them back as he pushed forward.

The agony was worse than what the doctor had subjected him to and Kestrel tried to scream.  He found that having his legs against his chest didn’t allow him to take a big enough gulp of air to make anything more than a pained moan.  He felt like he was being split in two.  The oil only protected Harrier and did nothing to ease his passage into him.

“So tight,” he hissed out and with one last push, he was in to the hilt.

Kestrel thought he had experienced the worst of it but when the older elf began thrusting, he reached a new level of torture.  Whimpering and crying freely, he pushed on Harrier’s chest to stop but the man ignored him, picking up his pace.  Giving up, he let his arms drop to his side as he looked away from the elf on top of him.

Grunting with each move of his hips, he watched Kestrel’s expression change from suffering to silent resignation.  That wouldn’t do.  He loved the pained noises he made.  Halting his pelvis, he released the boy’s legs and allowed them to rest against his chest.  Having both hands now free, he reached down and painfully pinched his nipples.  He grinned when it had its intended affect and Kestrel cried out.  Slowly, he pulled his cock almost all the way out and waited.

Kestrel returned his gaze to Harrier, hoping he was done.

“You’ve been such a good little bird,” Harrier said.

He waited until he saw relief on the boy’s face, believing they were done, before he thrust his whole length back into him.  Knowing what was coming, he immediately clamped his hand over the elf’s mouth to muffle his scream.

Panic set in and Kestrel tried to get away but Harrier’s hands found his hips and kept him pinned, fingers digging into his flesh as he pounded away.  There would be bruises there in the morning.

 _[Yes, fear]_ the voice echoed in his mind, sounding pleased.  _[Although this isn’t what you truly fear, is it, Inquisitor?  This is but a painful memory, one of many with this elf, but it’s the past.  Yet this elf could very well be in your future, couldn’t he?]_

Kestrel felt his chest constrict at the voice’s words.  He knew it was right but why would Harrier being in his life in the future be any different unless…

_[Dorian.]_

_Dorian_ , he thought as the same time as the voice.  His life came flooding back to him as he remembered the man he loved.  He didn’t know about his life bond with Harrier - how he was beholden to him and his commands.

 _[Yes, this is what you truly fear, Inquisitor]_ the voice hummed, sounding triumphant.

 

* * *

 

 

For a moment everything went dark.  Kestrel found his eyes were closed and struggled to open them.

“No passing out on me, little bird,” murmured a familiar voice behind him as he felt fingers loosen around his throat.

Kestrel struggled to figure out what was happening – why his lungs were gasping for air, why his body ached, why he felt trapped against a hard surface.

As the scene came back to him, he found himself face forward on the desk in his room in Skyhold.  He was bent over the side of it and strained to move.  In response, hips slammed against his ass and he felt an unlubricated cock force its way in.  A rough hand griped the back of his neck but eased up enough for Kestrel to look over his shoulder.  Harrier stood behind him with a smug grin on his features.

“Oh how I’ve missed this.  You thought you could leave the Clan to become this Inquisitor but the Keeper finally granted my request to check in on you, my life-ward.  Now you know you’ll never be able to leave me.  You’re mine, little bird.”  As if to emphasize his point, he rammed his full length in again, inciting a yelp of pain from the elf.  Harrier chuckled in response.

Kestrel’s hips banged into the desk beneath him, adding insult to injury.  He’d surely have bruises.  He needed this to be over as quickly as possible before…Trying to tune out what his elder was doing to him while still offering the occasional pained noise to egg him on, he kept his focus on the stairs he was facing.  He prayed to his gods that Dorian didn’t come up those stairs.

Of course the gods had never answered his prayers before so why should they start now.

“ _Amatus_?  Are you up here?  You missed our midday meal together,” Dorian said as he crested the stairs.  He froze as he found Kestrel bent over his desk, holding on for dear life as some other elf pounded into him.  “What the fuck-“

“Ah!  You must be Kestrel’s interim lover.  I’m afraid he won’t be needing you now that we’re together again,” Harrier greeted as he shifted his hips, causing the elf beneath him to whimper involuntarily.

Flames engulfed his hands as Dorian took a few steps forward.  “You will release him this instant,” he growled in warning.

“Come, little bird, tell this Tevinter whore that you no longer are in need of his services,” he said as his fingers gripped the elf’s hair and yanked, forcing him into a standing position.  It also had the added benefit of shoving his length in deeper, making his partner genuinely cry out in agony.

Kestrel felt fresh blood trickle down his legs as Harrier’s arms wrapped around his waist to keep him upright and impaled.  “Please…don’t…” he begged, eyes unable to meet Dorian’s.

“Under our life bond, I command you, Kestrel.  Tell him.”

“ _Amatus_ , don’t worry.  He’s not getting out of here alive.”  He advanced another few steps closer.  He couldn’t throw any spell at the assaulting elf for fear of hitting Kestrel but if he could just get close enough…

“Dorian, _ma vhenan_ , please…just leave.  It is how he says.  I’m bound to Harrier.  I-I am his and his alone.  I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you, I didn’t know how,” Kestrel sobbed.

“Harrier?  The one who saved you from the doctor?”

“So you have spoken of me.  I’m flattered, little bird,” he purred as he tweaked his nipple, frowning when all he received in response was a grimace.

“Y-Yes…in the Dalish culture, if one of us saves the life of the other, it’s called a life bond. 

Every-”

Harrier thrust forcibly into the elf, interrupting his speech.  “Just get rid of him already,” he snarled, growing impatient.

Dorian hurried forward a few more steps but stopped when Kestrel held out his hand.

“Every day of my life is owed to him.  I must do as he says, Dorian.  I-I’m so sorry…but you must leave.  I-We can’t be together anymore.”

“But I’ve saved your life countless times!” he retorted, looking for some way he could help.

“It’s only between elves.  Our people would never allow ourselves to be indebted to another race.”

“So you just enslave each other, then?  This is fucking ridiculous!” Dorian shouted but the flames died in his hands.  “ _Amatus_ , please, just let me kill him and you’ll be free.  What he’s doing…” he pleaded, doing his best to ignore the elf having sex with Kestrel.

“I-I can’t.  That would be going against my culture, my people.  We have so little left, I-I can’t…”

“Or maybe he likes it rough, Tevinter,” chuckled Harrier as he shoved the younger elf forward onto the desk.  He held his hand on the side of Kestrel’s face, keeping him secure as he lifted a foot to perch on the edge of the desk.  This allowed for a different angle and elicited more whimpers from his partner.

Dorian clenched his jaw and fists and found Kestrel looking up at him.

“I-I don’t want you to see me like this.  Please leave, Dorian.”

“You heard my little bird.  Time to go!”

Not knowing what else to do, the mage threw his hands up in the air and stormed off in a rage.  Kestrel didn’t relax until he heard the door slam below.

“Now, where were we…” Harrier whispered as he ran a hand down the elf’s back.  With one hand on Kestrel’s head and the other on his lower back, he kept the elf immobilized as he repeatedly tore into him.

There was nowhere for him to go to escape the torture and Kestrel wept freely at what he had just lost.

With one last shove, Harrier’s cock spurted into him, his seed burning as it hit the tears inside of him.  He quickly withdrew and with one sharp yank, had Kestrel on the floor in front of him.  With a few rapid pumps, he squirted the rest of his cum on the elf’s face with a satisfied grin.

“Clean it off,” he ordered, presenting his softening member.  It was covered in his blood and leftover semen but Kestrel did as he was commanded without compliant.  He’d lost the one thing that mattered to him most and had nothing left in him to fight with.

 


	6. Chapter 6

The sunlight bathed Dorian’s exposed tan skin as a cool breeze stirred the air, slipping in through the open balcony doors.  The sudden drop in air temperature summoned him from his slumber and he stretched, arms reaching overhead and toes curled.  With a huff, he flipped onto his side and allowed his gray gaze to wander over the sleeping elf beside him.  Noticing Kestrel’s brow was furrowed from a bad dream, he lightly ran his fingers over his green marking to sooth the crease away.

Brushing his hand over the elf’s freckled cheek as it retreated, he was surprised when he didn’t rouse.  Normally he was a light sleeper and responded to the slightest touch.  Scooting closer, Dorian softly kissed the Inquisitor’s ear, hoping to elicit a reaction from him.  When he still didn’t move, his heart skipped a beat.  Kestrel had been this unresponsive a week ago when he had been trapped in his dream.

“ _Amatus_?” he questioned as he sat up, hand clutching the elf’s shoulder.  Giving him a little shake, he frowned at the lack of movement.

“Please…don’t…” murmured Kestrel, brow wrinkling again.  His expression changed to a grimace as he brought his marked hand to his tunic-clothed chest, whimpering.

“Kes!  It’s okay.  I’m here,” Dorian reassured, running his fingers through the elf’s short hair.  He paused when he noticed the Inquisitor’s hand was glowing through his closed fist.  Gently, he pried the elf’s hand open to find that the anchor and the gash over it were pulsing a sickly green.

“I know I’ve lost everything.  …I-I don’t want to keep doing this.  Without Dorian, it’s not worth it,” he mumbled in his sleep as his free hand clenched at his side.

“What is happening to you, Kes?  You haven’t lost me,” the mage whispered fervently.  He knew he needed to wake up the Inquisitor.  Concerned at his mutterings, he gripped the elf’s shoulder and with a quiet “sorry”, he released his magic in the form of electricity.  It jolted Kestrel’s body briefly and Dorian watched the elf’s eyelids flutter hopefully.

“What do I need to do to make this stop?” the Inquisitor asked, sounding small and pitiful.

At first the mage thought he had been successful but when the elf’s eyes remained shut, he knew the shock hadn’t been enough.  He wasn’t talking to him.  Who was he talking to?  It sounded vaguely familiar…

Now desperate, Dorian clenched his jaw and released a bigger zap of energy into his partner’s small frame.  His body jerked for a few second before going limp.

“Alright…I-I supposed I can do that.  I just wish I could see him one last time…” Kestrel said softly as tears leaked through his closed eyes.

The mage froze when it hit him why Kestrel’s conversation sounded so familiar.  He was making a deal with something Dorian couldn’t see and, since he was asleep, that meant only one possibility – a demon.  How was he in the Fade in his dreams?  Only mages were able to enter the Fade while they slept yet somehow the Inquisitor had managed it.  It had to do with his glowing anchor.  If he went through with whatever agreement he was making, he’d become an abomination or something worse.

“ _Kaffas_ , Kes!  Don’t do it!  You can see me if you just open your eyes!” Dorian begged, shaking the elf.

“Wait!  I-I want to see him.  To try to explain to him why I didn’t tell him.” 

“Yes!  Fight it!”  Whatever Kestrel was struggling with, they could discuss once he was awake and safe and sound.  He briefly debated leaving Kestrel to seek help but he didn’t want to leave him alone.

“No!  Not yet.  He at least deserves to know how happy he’s made me and how wonderful he is as himself.”

“Oh, _amatus_ ,” Dorian murmured, leaning forward to press his forehead against the elf’s as he closed his eyes.  “I love you.  Please come back to me.”  Tears flowed freely down his face and dripped onto Kestrel’s cheeks.  “You’ve made me the happiest I’ve ever been,” he choked out.

“D-Dorian…?” whispered the elf.

“I don’t want to lose you without you knowing that I love you, Kes,” he continued.

“ _Ma vhenan_ , please don’t cry.  I’m okay,” Kestrel said softly as he brushed away the mage’s tears. 

“Maker!  You woke up!” he exclaimed as his eyes flew open.  They were quickly closed again as he roughly grabbed the elf’s face and passionately kissed him.

Kestrel ran his fingers through the mage’s sleep-messed hair and desperately kissed him back.

When they’d both gotten their fill of each other, they separated, breathless and flushed.

“I thought I’d lost you, Kes.  Don’t scare me like that!” the mage chastised sharply as he sat up, allowing the elf to follow his lead.

“Did you…did you say you love me?” Kestrel asked, doing his best to ignore the phantom pains that racked his form as he changed position.  He understood that Harrier and his treatment had only been a dream.  Why did he hurt so much?  Agony of his abused body warred against such positive words.  He forced his brain to focus and replay his partner’s words.  Yes, he was fairly certain that was what he heard.

“What?  I…well…yes.  I love you, _amatus_ ,” he answered, his cheeks tinting with embarrassment.

“Well, that’s new,” he said with a small smile, fingers briefly touching Dorian’s pink cheek.

The mage sighed, hoping to expel some of his rare nervousness before he continued, “I _do_ love you.  I…I’ve loved you for a while now I just didn’t want you to feel obligated to return my feelings.”

Kestrel found the normal confident mage’s anxiety endearing and his smile grew.  “I meant your chagrin but _ar lath ma_ …I love you, Dorian.  And I’m not saying that out of any obligation however…”  He paused, eyes dropping to the sheets between them.  Frowning, he forged on, “…there is something we need to discuss.”

The mage’s attitude shifted with the elf’s, moving from thrilled at his feelings being returned to seriousness at the life-threatening situation that faced Kestrel.  “Alright.  But we really should figure out what’s happening to you first.  I heard you.  It sounded like you were making a deal with a demon.  Do you realize what would’ve happened to you if you hadn’t woken up?  You would’ve become an abomination!  Or…something like an abomination!  I don’t know if anyone without magic abilities has made a deal with a demon in the Fade before…but I can guarantee it wouldn’t be good for you, Kes!  You scared the shit out of me!  …why were you willing to make a deal anyway?  What did the demon promise you?” Dorian struggled to keep his flip-flopping emotions in check, his face flushing with the effort.  He grabbed Kestrel’s hand to show that his words came from a place of concern rather than anger.

“This is what we need to discuss, _ma vhenan_.  You don’t know everything about me and what my…obligations are.”

“Obligations?”

The Inquisitor squeezed his hand before releasing it as he curled his legs against his chest, pulling into himself.  The sharp pain that shot down his thighs only emphasized his need to come clean and he secretly welcomed the punishment.  “In Dalish culture, when one _elvhen_ saves the life of another, they become life-bonded.  The one who was rescued owes their remaining days to the rescuer since they wouldn’t exist otherwise.”

Dorian raised an eyebrow, gray eyes watching the elf’s form shrink as he spoke.  “So when Harrier saved you…?”

Kestrel briefly met the mage’s gaze before he returned to staring at his knees.  “Yes.  I’m his life-ward.  My duty is to support Harrier in _whatever_ he needs, Dorian.”

Kestrel watched as the mage pondered what his words implied, marking the exact moment when it hit him as his jaw clenched.

“I take it by your need to discuss this with me that it’s not as simple as fetching his meals or cleaning his weapons.”

“No,” he whispered in response.

“So he used you for whatever he wanted.  You’re essentially his slave,” the mage stated, keeping his tone neutral but if Kestrel had been able to meet his gaze, he would’ve seen the storm behind them.  Instead the elf had buried his face in his hands, struggling to keep the tears back.

“Yes,” he managed to mutter.  He prepared himself for Dorian to get up from the bed and leave him and as the silence drew out, he lost his battle against his tears.  He was disgusting and was convinced that Dorian wouldn’t want him any longer.

The mage misread the elf’s reaction as guilt instead of shame.  “Do you…do you want to be with him, Kes?” Dorian asked quietly, voice breaking with the question.

“What?” the Inquisitor retorted, incredulous, looking up at the mage as he fervently wiped at his tears.  “No!  You don’t understand!  Harrier is very…temperamental.”  His fingers involuntarily rose to the scar that cut into his upper lip as he strove to explain his relationship with Harrier.  “But he’s second behind the Keeper in my Clan and to draw his eye was a compliment.  He made sure his interest was the only one that I received and, for a while, I was flattered despite the rough treatment.  I thought it was worth it and I didn’t know any better. 

“At first, he worked hard to ensure I knew how special I was to him.  Then it changed to the fact that no one else wanted me.  After the first few years, he stopped pretending altogether and started threatening me.  I grew to loathe his attention but was too ashamed to complain.  I took my free time to excel at becoming a Hunter so the Keeper would permit me to leave on hunting trips.  I…I think the Keeper had some idea about what was happening but even she can’t interfere in a life bond.  When she heard of the Conclave, I was her first pick.  I do not want to be with him, only you, _ma vhenan_.”

“Why didn’t you tell me, _amatus_?”  He reached forward and took Kestrel’s hand away from his lips, squeezing it reassuringly.  He’d always wondered what had been the cause of the mark as he’d found it intriguing the way it interrupted the elf’s otherwise perfect features but now he despised the truth behind it.

“I never expected any of this.  Only a few people with my Clan even know about the life bond so it’s not something I would broadcast to the Inquisition.  And then, with us, from the start everything was so wonderful, I didn’t want to spoil it.  After a while, I had withheld it from you for so long that I almost forgot about my life bond.  If Harrier shows up…”

Dorian sighed dramatically, his flamboyant personality flooding back to him.  The mage brought the back of the elf’s hand to his lips, kissing it lightly, his mustache tickling the skin.  “If he shows up, I’ll kill him.  It’s as simple as that,” he said confidently.

  Kestrel frowned.  “You can’t.  If you kill him - if anyone kills him - my life if forfeit too.”  Not to mention that Harrier was a better Hunter than he was and Dorian might be outmatched.  He would never allow them to fight head-to-head.

“Of course it is.  Then how does one break this insufferable bond?”

Smiling weakly at him, the elf answered, “I either need to save his life or he can release me from it.”

“Then we still have two options!  Once Corypheus is dealt with, we’ll deal with Harrier.  But first we need to figure out what is happening to you.  I know what the demon shows you seems real but you can’t agree to do whatever it’s asking of you, Kes,” he said, shifting to the more immediate concern.  He wouldn’t forget what Harrier had done to Kestrel, though.  He would find a way to sever their life bond.

“You don’t understand.  I…I was so afraid that I had lost you forever.  The fear was so real.  Constricting.”  He shuddered at the remembrance of the other elf forcing him down on the desk.  “I couldn’t think until I heard you say ‘I love you’.” 

What if he hadn’t spoken those words?  Would Kestrel have responded to him or would he have gone through with the deal?  Dorian was relieved that he had taken that moment to speak his feelings, especially after holding that back for so long.  Slightly flustered by the thought, he tried to sound self-assured as he spoke, “Seems like a fear demon.  That would make sense.  It targeted your feeling of doctors and then your feeling of losing me – which, I must add, is silly since I would never do that, _amatus_.  You must focus on the lies the demon is wielding.  That is how they teach mages to avoid their traps, at least in Tevinter.”

“Alright.  I’ll try to remember that if it happens again.  Although I’d prefer not to if we can figure out how to stop-” Kestrel’s words were interrupted with a yawn. “-this.”

“Agreed.  I think it’s somehow latching on to you through your anchor.  It was glowing during your night terror.  Perhaps Solas will have some insight?  We should go see him next.”  His gray eyes roamed his partner’s features, now noticing the dark circles under his eyes.  With his familiar smirk, he scooted closer to the elf.  Wrapping his arm around his smaller frame, he pulled him against his bare chest.  “But not before you take a few hours to get some uninterrupted sleep, _amatus_.”

Kestrel opened his mouth to protest but Dorian’s comforting scent of sandalwood and brandy caused him to snuggle closer, nose nuzzling against the muscular wall beneath him.  “Mmm…I love you, _ma vhenan_ ,” he murmured without any hesitation, feeling so free of all of the burdens that had kept him from speaking those words.

Dorian ran his fingers down the elf’s clothed back as they settled back into bed.  “I love you too.”

Kestrel could hear the smile in his words and knew he wouldn’t have any more bad dreams so long as this man held him.


	7. Chapter 7

“You should’ve come to me sooner, _lethallin_ ,” Solas chastised, the Inquisitor’s marked hand held firmly in his grasp as he studied it closely.

“ _Ir abelas_ ,” muttered Kestrel in response, appropriately chastened.  It had taken him a while to find common ground with the elf but now he had ample amounts of respect for him and the abundance of knowledge he had.  He also didn’t like disappointing him, it was similar to how he felt if he let down the Keeper of his Clan.

“What do you think?” questioned Dorian, hovering over their shoulders.

Solas lifted his blue eyes to the Tevinter.  “I believe your initial assessment is correct.  A spirit from the Fade has attached itself to the Inquisitor and is feeding off of his fears.  Its end goal does appear to be possession - possibly for control of the anchor.  That terror demon that attacked must have been an underling for something bigger in the Fade.  It was most likely acting on its orders to place its own mark upon the Inquisitor to connect him further to the Fade.”

“I think it’s the Nightmare demon,” whispered Kestrel.  Both men shifted their gaze to him.  He squirmed under their stares, shifting from foot to foot.  They waited for him to continue.  “It’s just that…I thought the voice in my dreams sounded familiar but I couldn’t quite place it.  The more I think about it, the more I’m convinced it is the Nightmare demon.”  Neither companion seemed to question his thoughts, accepting them for the truth.

“That means Hawke…” Dorian murmured, grimacing.

The Inquisitor briefly met his look as he sighed, “I know.”  They’d all held some minor hope that the Champion of Kirkwall had miraculously survived.

“It also means that Corypheus may be behind that attack since he’s worked closely with the Nightmare demon before and has coveted the anchor.  This may be his way to obtain it indirectly,” Solas said with a brooding frown, releasing Kestrel’s hand.  “If the spirit is successful in possessing you, Inquisitor, it will have complete control of your body.  You will no longer exist as we know you.  It is imperative we destroy this connection the Nightmare has to you and as soon as possible since we don’t know exactly what’s triggering it.”

“We came to the same conclusion.  Possession equals bad.  But _how_ do we break this link?” pushed Dorian, face a little paler.  Kestrel’s life was in imminent danger and he had no idea what to do to save him. 

Solas shook his head as he took several steps away, hands clasped behind his back.  “I don’t know.  I need to consider our options.  In the meantime,” he paused as he turned around to face them, “It is imperative that you not feed it any more fears, _lethallin_.  Do not give it anything more to plague you with.”

“O-Of course,” the Inquisitor said, uncertain what that entailed.

The bald elf nodded his head and moved back to his desk, rifling through a stack of paper.

“Sounds like Solas has just ordered you take it easy, _amatus_ ,” Dorian declared softly with a smug grin.

“That does not mean I’m going to spend all day in bed,” Kestrel whispered pointedly to the mage, hoping to keep his voice low enough so they were not overheard.  The grin of his indicated where his thoughts had strayed.  He remembered Harrier’s rough administrations and lingering throbbing still troubled him.

“Yes, that would be ill-advised.  Please refrain from performing any activity that will exhaust you faster than normal.  I need as much time as possible before you sleep, Inquisitor,” Solas chimed in, not looking up.

Kestrel blushed immediately and deeply, all the way across his face and up to the tips of his ears.  He was mortified that the other elf had heard them and grabbed a chuckling Dorian’s hand as he dashed out of the room without another word. 

 

* * *

 

 

The first night he had trouble falling asleep because Dorian was so anxious and kept trying to stir up a hushed conversation with Solas who insisted on observing the Inquisitor while he slept.  The elf had had little success in coming up with a solution to their dilemma and had insisting on surveillance. 

The second night, Dorian was so tired he fell asleep almost immediately while Kestrel struggled to under Solas’ silent observation.  The third night, Kestrel pleaded that having Dorian by his side was enough and that if anything happened, they’d be sure to notify Solas.  He grudgingly agreed, acknowledging that his presence was having an impact on the Inquisitor’s health, and the rest of the week continued without incident.

Except the confinement and everyday doldrums were driving Kestrel crazy.

Normally he never spent this much time at Skyhold.  They would’ve been halfway to another part of Thedas to squash a red templar uprising or thwart a Venatori scheme.  As it stood, Dorian, Solas, and his advisors –once they were informed- agreed that keeping the Inquisitor at Skyhold until a solution was found was the safest for him.

Kestrel found himself frequently pacing the one stretch of land in the Keep that had a few trees, feet bare.  He ignored the inquisitive stares he received and, sensing his unrest, no one tried to approach him.  Even Dorian had left his side, returning to his alcove in the library.  He knew Kestrel was feeling like a caged beast and didn’t want to crowd him further.

So far there had been no luck in figuring out how to sever his deeper tie to the Fade but he also hadn’t had any more strange dreams.  Kestrel was starting to believe that he’d lived through his fears and there was nothing left for the demon to feed on.  After all, what was worse than losing Dorian?

He found himself in Skyhold’s garden for the third time that day, eyes lifting skyward to the extended tree branches and blue sky.  He longed to be out of the Keep riding his hart or closing rifts or killing Venatori or…anything but trapped here!  Wrapping his hands around the trunk of a tree, he pressed his forehead into its rough bark, trying to ground himself.

“In-Inquisitor?”

Exhaling sharply, Kestrel turned around to face the voice, finding Loranil watching him with questioning eyes, brow slightly furrowed in concern.  He flushed with embarrassment.  He had no idea how long he had stood there against the tree.

“ _Ir abelas, hahren_.  I appear to have disturbed you.  If this is not a good time, I can return later,” the younger elf spouted quickly in elven.

Kestrel groaned.  He had completely forgotten his promised scouting mission to the fellow Dalish elf.  Loranil had excelled quickly within Cullen ranks and had taken up a few jobs on the side for Leliana.  When he’d heard about the Inquisitor’s abilities to sneak around undetected, he took the initiative to approach Kestrel and request some lessons.  At the time, he’d been flattered and swore they would go on a mission together in a month so he could teach him some basic stealth skills.  …and that had been a month ago.

Loranil ran his hand nervously through his messy brown hair, unsure whether he should leave or stay.

“I apologize, Loranil.  I’m not supposed to…” He paused, a thought dawning on him.  “Actually, now would be great!  I’ll meet you outside of Skyhold at nightfall.  I’m sure Leliana can provide you a good location nearby to scout.  I do have one ask of you, though,” he said quickly.  It felt good to speak elven again and the promise of an escape from his temporary prison lightened his mood.

“Anything!” he responded eagerly, grinning.

“Do not tell anyone that I am to accompany you, okay?”  Even though he was speaking a different language, Kestrel felt the need to speak softly.

The other elf’s eyes widen but he didn’t question the order, instead nodding his head that he understood.

“See you tonight!” he called after Loranil as he departed.  His mind was already planning what he would need for a short trip and which passages to take to avoid any notice. 

Glancing at the sky, he gauged he had a few hours to organize a pack and sneak out of the Keep.  He knew he couldn’t visit Dorian in his giddy state.  That man would know instantly that he was hiding something.  He resolved himself to leave him a note in their room before he left and went about his preparations for the journey.


	8. Chapter 8

Kestrel inhaled sharply, closing his eyes as the cold, fresh mountain air filled his lungs.  The horse beneath him tossed its head, mimicking his joy at being out in the open again. 

They had trekked for a mile or two by foot before picking up horses at one of the Inquisition outposts.  He figured if anyone reported the Inquisitor passing by, they would be long gone by the time word reached his advisors.  They had already traveled several miles through the snow-coated, forest-sprinkled mountains as they made their way to their destination.

Loranil sat beside him astride his own mount, watching the Inquisitor with a small smile.  “Being cooped up gets to you too, doesn’t it?”

“Yes!  I go stir crazy in Skyhold sometimes.  I miss the woods.  All of the sights and smells.  I feel like being surrounded by stone for too long dulls my senses,” Kestrel agreed.  “These ranges don’t have the forests I’m used to but I’m not complaining.”

“Must be the Dalish in us.  It’s hard to stay in one place for too long.  I think it fights our instincts,” he said softly, looking ahead into the dark woods with a pensive expression.

What he said struck a chord in him and he smiled to himself, thinking of the beautiful woods that his people lived in.  “Do you miss your Clan, Loranil?”  Kestrel knew it was a stupid question as soon as the words left his mouth.  Maybe he was just voicing his own longing.  He watched as the elf’s expression dropped and he swallowed hard.

“Of course I do.  You saw how small my Clan is.  We’re nowhere near the size of Clan Lavellan so we’re all extremely close and depended upon to do our own duties,”   He shifted on his mount to face Kestrel, grin returning. “But what we’re doing here impacts everyone in Thedas, my Clan included.  I know I’m where I need to be and it’s especially an honor to serve under another _elvhen_.  No one will disregard our people so easily now that you’re Inquisitor.”

The Inquisitor felt his face warming and was thankful for the darkness around them.  “I…thank you for your support, Loranil.  Now...where does Leliana want us to scout?” He shifted the topic away from the uncomfortable discussion of himself back to the task at hand.

“Ah, yes!  She has us traveling to Haven, _hahren_.  Ever since the Inquisition had to abandon those grounds, occasionally an enemy group will attempt to set-up camp there to spy on us since it’s near Skyhold.  The Spymaster regularly sends teams to scout the area to ensure no one new has moved in.  Should be pretty straight forward.”

Kestrel nodded his head in agreement.  He had avoided Haven since they were forced to flee but it made sense that their enemies would try to usurp the abandoned location.  “Let’s travel a bit more and then we’ll set-up camp so we can approach Haven in the early morning.”  He nudged his horse into a quick walk, his night vision helping them navigate through the woods as they continued in a peaceful silence.

* * *

 

Since they’d packed light, Kestrel and Loranil had slept in the snow-weighted boughs of a pine tree, tied to the trunk.  Despite the cold air, their leather armor and a blanket each kept them warm as they slept.  Chirps of birds pulled the Inquisitor from his dreamless sleep, indicating the approaching dawn.  He yawned widely as his blue eyes searched a few branches over to find Loranil watching him.  He offered an awkward smile before releasing himself from the tree and dropping down several feet, the snow cushioning his fall. 

The other Dalish followed behind him although he was less quiet about it.  On his way down, his foot caught on the tree trunk causing him to slip and fall rear first into the snow.  Kestrel couldn’t suppress the laugh that left him.  Loranil immediately flushed with mortification as he leapt to his feet.

“I-I promise I’m normally more graceful than that!” he stammered as he tried to covertly brush the snow off of him.

“You have no idea how clumsy I used to be.  I couldn’t even hit a nug with my bow when I was younger!  It took many years of training to become as quiet as I can be, Loranil.  Don’t be hard on yourself,” Kestrel reassured with a warm smile, moving to the elf’s side to help him remove a bit of snow he’d missed on his side.

Loranil’s eyes followed his touch, cheeks still flushed.  “So…uhm…is it true about you and the Tevinter?” he asked softly, gaze carefully averting to the ground.

“You mean Dorian?  Yes.  But he’s not what you think.  I had my doubts about him too at the beginning but he’s an amazing man.  More than I deserve.”  Kestrel didn’t notice the other elf’s disappointed expression as his eyes lifted to the lightening sky, mind shifting to thoughts of the mage.

Loranil cleared his throat, quickly drawing the Inquisitor’s attention back to him.  “We should get moving before there’s too much light, _hahren_.”

“Yes, of course.  For your training, I want you to focus on being as silent as you can.  Stealth only makes you invisible, it doesn’t hide any noises you make so it’s imperative that you’re as quiet as possible.  I’ll lead us into Haven.”

Loranil nodded his head in understanding as he unsheathed his sword.  Kestrel followed his lead and readied his bow before slipping into stealth.  They crept through the snow towards the tree line that surrounded Haven.  As they approached the vacated training grounds, they heard the sounds of several people moving around.  Crouching in the shadow of a pine, Kestrel looked onto the clearing, spotting red templars establishing a camp using the Inquisition’s discarded supplies.

His stealth dissolved as Loranil kneeled next to him, blade ready.  “There has to be at least 10 of them.  And it looks like there are more in what’s left of the main area behind the wall,” he whispered, body tense.

The Inquisitor narrowed his eyes as he counted those he could see, totaling closer to 15.  But the trampled, brown slush around the camp indicating the movement of many more boots through the area.  “We need to report back to Cullen and have him dispatch some troops to take care of them.  Your training will have to wait.”  He gestured for them to retreat.

Once they were back by their original camp, they quickly packed up what they had left behind and saddled their mounts in silence.

Movement out of the corner of Kestrel’s eye caught his attention and he scanned their surroundings, frowning. 

Loranil noticed him looking around and froze, hand reaching for his blade.  Before he could unsheathe his blade, a red spike punched through his throat.  The only noise that escaped was a gurgle of surprise before the spear of red lyrium withdrew, letting the elf fall to his knees as he clawed in vain at the crimson gushing from the wound.

His horse whinnied in fear, the smell of blood startling it into a gallop.  With the horse gone, a red Templar Shadow was exposed, lance of lyrium dripping with the deed of his crime.  Its helmed gaze shifted to the Inquisitor, crystal-coated arms raising in challenge as it stepped cautiously forward.

Acting on instinct, Kestrel slapped the rump of his own mount while retrieving his bow, needing the beast out of the way for a clean shot.  The bow fired its first arrow before the Shadow took another step forward, the projectile finding its way through the thin slit of templar’s helmet and dropping him.

Not noticing any other templars, he ran to the side of his fallen companion, kneeling in the bloodied snow.  “No no no…” he muttered as he tried to staunch the bleeding of the gaping wound with his hands.  “I’m so sorry, Loranil.” 

The elf weakly grasped Kestrel’s hand around his throat as he attempted a smile.  His mouth opened to speak but no sound came out.  With one final squeeze to his hand, he went limp, head lolling to the side. 

“ _Dareth shiral_ ,” he whispered as he closed the departed elf’s eyes.  Lowering his head, he briefly pressed their vallaslins together, blinking back tears.  Fear made his chest tighten as he realized this fate could befall anyone that followed him.  Sera, Blackwall, Solas, Dorian – they could easily be in the same position as Loranil.  Dead.  They’ve been lucky so far but their luck would eventually run out and he would be left with more bodies.

The crunch of fresh footsteps in the snow urged Kestrel back to his feet.  As he rose and spun to face the source of the sound, a force slammed into shoulder, almost knocking him over.  He looked down to his shoulder to notice a red-fletched arrow sprouting from him. 

“Bullseye!” shouted someone gleefully.

Kestrel focused on a group of five templars weaving their way through the trees towards him as he cursed under his breath at the pain.  Gaze darting from Loranil’s body to the advancing men, he knew he’d have to abandon the elf’s remains unless he wanted to be caught or worse.  Taking a deep breath, he urged his protesting body back into stealth, shimmering out of view as the templars neared.

“What the fuck?  Find him!” ordered the knight leading them.

“I told you I saw the Inquisitor!” chimed in one of his companions with red lyrium jutting from his shoulder.

“How do you know it’s him?  Yeah, it’s a knife-ear like he is but we won’t know until we look at his hand.”

“What about this one?” another Templar asked as he kicked Loranil’s body with his booted foot.

“Check his hand but I don’t think that’s him.”

After that Kestrel had moved too far away to hear anything else.  He knew he was leaving a trail of blood to track.  He didn’t have any time to stop to patch the wound.  Instead he focused on moving as quickly as possible through the forest, doing his best to ignore his left arm hanging lifelessly from him as it radiated rays of agony.

His stealth failed as he stumbled over a root hidden in the snow, functioning hand thankfully finding a tree trunk and preventing him from falling all the way down.  His hand was coated in blood and Kestrel stared at it.  What had he done?  He’d agreed to this scouting mission for his own greedy intention of getting out of Skyhold and now he’d gotten a fellow Dalish killed.  He would get all of his companions killed eventually- he was sure of it - and that terrified him.  Such was the fate of those that followed him.

“There he is!” shouted a man behind the Inquisitor, startling him out of his reverie.

“ _Fenedhis_!” he cursed, shambling on as best as he could. 

Depending on the trees to keep him upright more and more, he stumbled from one to the next as his pursuers closed in.  Another arrow whizzed by, barely missing him and puncturing the trunk he’d just left.

Suddenly hearing voices ahead, Kestrel halted, confused.  Had he somehow gotten turned around and was heading straight into the arms of his enemies?

“Spread out and find the Inquisitor!” barked a familiar voice.

Hoping he wasn’t delirious from his wound, the elf pushed forward to a clearing ahead.  At the tree line, he nearly cried in relief when he spotted Cullen astride his black and white palmetto ordering a squad of Inquisition soldiers into formation as a fresh snowfall began.

He was spotted almost immediately despite the fat flakes and braced himself against the closest tree as they ran to him across the clearing.  He was too exhausted to take another step.

Having momentarily forgotten his hunters, he yelped in surprise when a big hand grabbed his injured left arm.  “Got you!” growled the red templar knight as he roughly jerked the elf off the tree, sword brandished at the approaching Inquisition soldiers.  Kestrel was too weak to fight him off, doing everything in his power just to stay conscious.

“Defend the Inquisitor!” commanded Cullen as the troops closed in.

Suddenly the man holding him burst into flames.

The templar released his grip and started screaming in agony.  He fled in a panic, running right past his companions.  The Inquisition squad ran past the Inquisitor as he slumped to his knees.  The clanging of metal on metal was muted to Kestrel even though a battle between his men and the remaining templars ensued only twenty paces behind him.

“ _Amatus_ ,” murmured a concerned Dorian, cradling Kestrel carefully in his arms as he held him in the snow.

The scent of sandalwood and brandy cleared the haze of pain and fatigue, if only briefly.  “Dorian?  When…?”

“Shhh…I’m here, Kes.  You’re safe now,” the mage reassured, fingers brushing over the elf’s forehead in habit before lightly touching his shoulder with the arrow jutting from it.  Warmth enveloped the area and the pain moderately subsided.

“How is he?” asked Cullen, outside of Kestrel’s field of vision but somewhere nearby.

“He’s lost a lot of blood and we need to get this arrow out of him but he should be okay.  I’ve slowed the bleeding until we can get him back to Skyhold.  I’d prefer a real healer handle his wound to ensure it heals properly.”

“I-I lost him, _ma vhenan_.  I lost Loranil.  He’s dead,” Kestrel muttered into the man’s chest, too drained to summon any emotion to his words.

“It’s okay.  We’ll figure it all out.  Just stay with me.”

“He died because of me.  We can’t leave him behind.”

“We need to get him on my horse.  Careful now, men,” the Commander ordered.

Several soldiers, grabbing a limb a piece, hoisted the Inquisitor from the mage’s hold and situated him upright in the saddle.  Kestrel’s body went limp and he fell forward onto the horse’s neck.  Without asking for permission, Dorian mounted behind him, arms securing the elf vertical with his back against his chest.

Cullen sighed and shook his head without comment.  He gestured overhead for his men to set out in a protective formation around the Inquisitor.

With the back of his head resting against Dorian’s shoulder, Kestrel had an unobstructed view of the gray sky and the snowflakes falling as they started their way back to Skyhold.  It felt so wrong for them to be leaving Loranil behind.  He’d need a funeral pyre to set his spirit free.  As his eyes grew heavy, he acknowledged that he needed to set all of his companions free or he feared the same fate would befall them.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think this is by far the saddest chapter. I'm sorry, Kes. T_T
> 
> Oh...and lots of characters die...

The air was warm and verged on stuffy in the tent Kestrel found himself in.  It was roomier than his usual traveling one, peeking several feet overhead with walls lined in draped fabrics.  Rugs covered the floor but tuffs of grass poked through in a few spots, indicating they were outside somewhere.  The only furniture was a full-length mirror in a corner.  Josephine stood off to his right with tears in her eyes as she looked him over with a joyful smile.  “Yes, yes, I think that will do quite nicely.  I’m so excited for you, Kestrel!”

“Josephine…?” he questioned, unsure where he was or why she was so happy.  The entrance of the tent was closed so he couldn’t see their surroundings.

“Come!  Look at yourself!  I think you’ll leave Dorian speechless,” she gushed as she grabbed the Inquisitor’s arm and pulled him over to the mirror.

Wondering if the ambassador had lost her mind, Kestrel elected to humor her and glanced at his image in the mirror.  What he saw left _him_ speechless.  He was dressed in a ground-length, dark leather robe that was embroidered with thick silver thread in the design of a tree.  It sprouted from the bottom back of the robe and spread up and around.  The elaborate garment contrasted nicely with the simple blue silk tunic he wore underneath.  Somehow Josephine had managed to match its color to the same hue as his eyes.  Plain leather pants blended in with the look with his bare feet poking out at the bottom, wrapped in traditional elven bindings but thankfully bootless.  The look was completed with a silver crown consisting of woven branches that perched atop his head.

He was dressed for an elven bonding ceremony.  …His bonding ceremony?

“Beautiful!” Josephine breathed, hand wiping at a tear that had escaped.

“I don’t…” Kestrel started and quickly stopped, not knowing what to say as he continued to stare at his image in the mirror.  This outfit even outdid what he wore to the Halamshiral and that had, up until this point, been the finest clothing he’d ever worn.

A horned head worked its way in between the flaps on the tent, startling the Inquisitor.  “They’re ready for you, Boss,” Iron Bull said, gaze taking in the elf before releasing a low whistle.  “And I thought Dorian looked good!  But he does look like he’s about to faint or burn something down so I wouldn’t keep him waiting too much longer,” he commented with a large grin before disappearing.

“D-Dorian?” he stuttered, legs suddenly feeling weak.  Was this really happening?  His heart started thumping rapidly in his chest.  His mind was so scattered with the event that he couldn’t even remember being engaged.

Noticing his nervousness, Josephine rushed to his side and gingerly took his hand, squeezing it reassuringly.  “Are you ready?”

Unable to speak, Kestrel nodded his head.

The ambassador beamed like a proud mother as she led the Inquisitor from the tent by his hand.

The transition from the dim tent to the bright sunlight caused the elf’s gaze to temporarily drop as his eyes adjusted.  As he took a moment, his ears detected hushed conversations up ahead and he felt Josephine pass his hand to someone else.

“Oh, _da’len_.  You look so handsome!”

Kestrel squinted as he looked up from the green grass beneath his bare toes.  “ _Hahren_ Istimaethoriel!” he said immediately, recognizing the Keeper of his Clan.  “What are you doing here?”

“I’m here to walk my favorite Hunter down the path to his _vhenan_.  It’s one of my favorite duties, you know,” she replied with a smile on her weathered face.  Pulling Kestrel close, she pressed her forehead against his, hand resting on the back of his neck.  “You have done so much for this world, _da’len_.  I’m so pleased you’ve been able to find some happiness for yourself.  I’m truly proud of you,” she said softly in elven.

Her acceptance of him and the person his heart had chosen filled him with joy.  Few Keepers would be pleased to have one of Clan end up with a _shemlen_ , much less one from Tevinter.  “ _Ma serannas, hahren_ ,” he responded, voice soft with emotions.

“Now, let’s get this celebration started,” the Keeper continued, switching back to Common tongue as she released Kestrel.  Threading her arm with the elf’s, she started the procession forward.  Josephine darted ahead, leaving them behind most likely to ensure that every detail was in place.

The Inquisitor recognized the woods of his people, taking in the well-known sights and smells.  The familiarity helped settle his nerves as they moved toward a seated group of people in a sunlit clearing.  At this time, no one had noticed them approaching through the darker forest and the faint rumblings of many conversations rolled through the forest.

They paused several feet back from the tree line at Kestrel’s insistence, his stomach fluttering with a nagging feeling that something wasn’t quite right.  His blue eyes darted amount the guests, spotting Leliana, Bull, Blackwall, Sera, Cassandra, and Varric seated together by the front.  Even Vivienne was among them despite the “rustic” setting.  Solas and Cole were nowhere to be seen.  He struggled to remember why they weren’t there but let the thought drop when he couldn’t come up with a reason.  He was happy to see that his Clan members filled out the rest of the seats.  Thankfully Harrier was strangely absent.  Perhaps the Keeper had skillfully planned for him to be away.

The light glinted off of a piece of metal and Kestrel found his eyes drawn straight ahead, down the path between the seated visitors.  Dorian stood with his back to the small crowd, chatting with Cullen who stood at the forefront, ready to officiate the ceremony.  A similar leather robe hung from his frame, decorated with a gold embroidered winged serpent that Kestrel recognized as the Tevinter dragon emblem.  His crown was in matching gold and consisted of two entwined snakes elegantly coiled around one another. 

Even from the distance they were at, he could tell Dorian was tense.  His movements were void of his normal fluid grace and he kept fiddling with his mustache.  Every few moments, he would turn slightly and glance around the crowd, searching.  In one of these moments, Kestrel realized the mage wore a complimentary green tunic to his blue.  It emphasized his flawless, bronzed skin and jet black hair.  He was mesmerizing.

“Are you ready, _da’len_?”

The Inquisitor jumped, forgetting the Keeper had accompanied him.  She’d been so quiet, allowing him to take in the sight of his own marriage.

Swallowing hard, he managed a soft “yes” in response.

They took several steps forward just as Dorian was making another sweep of the group.  Their eyes met as Kestrel was led into the clearing.  The mage’s jaw dropped as he blatantly stared, making the elf flush furiously under his unwavering attention.  A few moments more and he found all eyes on the Inquisitor as a reverent silence fell over the guests.  He took a step towards the elf as if in a trance.  Cullen harshly whispered that he was supposed to let the Inquisitor come to him but if fell on deaf ears.

Kestrel made it about halfway down the aisle before Dorian left his post at the front and hurried over to Kestrel.  Without a word, he grabbed the elf’s face and kissed him soundly, summoning a flurry of hushed whispers from the crowd around them.  Finally acknowledging their surroundings, the mage leaned back, smirking when his partner’s head briefly followed his, lips parted and begging for more.  “Maker, you’re beautiful.  I couldn’t wait.  Propriety be damned,” he murmured.

The Keeper cleared her throat next to them and Kestrel felt his blush spread to the tips of his ears.  Now having their attention, she smiled and lightly patted the arm she held.  “Shall we?”

Dorian gawked at her as if her words woke him from a dream.  Regaining his senses, he removed his crown and gracefully bowed before her in a sign of respect.  “I request your permission, Keeper, to be bonded to your child, Kestrel Lavellan, before the eyes of these witnesses and the gods themselves,” he recited in elven.  His accent was off but the meaning was understandable and came across as genuine.

“Granted, _da’len_ ,” she responded formally, passing the Inquisitor’s arm to the mage as he stood.

Reasserting the crown atop his head with one hand, Dorian extended his other to accept the offered arm.

Kestrel planted a loving kiss to the Keeper’s cheek before she took her seat at the front, leaving the two men in the aisle alone, surrounded by onlookers.

“There’s no backing out now, _amatus_ ,” the Tevinter whispered as he maneuvered them to the patiently waiting Cullen.

In a haze, Kestrel focused on putting one foot in front of the other, eyes never leaving Dorian’s face.  He looked so happy.  Why did he still feel like something was off?  He forced the feeling of unease aside and tried to lose himself in the bliss of the event. 

As they passed their companions from the Inquisition, they were cheered on.  Sera gave them two thumbs up, Blackwall and Cassandra allowed smiles to break their typically stoic resolves, Bull winked at him, and Varric was scribbling furiously into a notebook.  Probably documenting for his next story he kept threatening to write.

Before he knew it, they were positioned facing each other, hands held, in front of Cullen who was flushed with nervousness.  As he started to speak, his voice broke.  Josephine quickly ran to his side from out of nowhere and prodded him, whispering, “Speak up, Commander.  I’ve heard you speak louder to your troops so I know you can do this.”  That seemed to provide the confidence boost he needed and, after clearing his throat, he started anew.

As Cullen spoke, Kestrel was distracted by his pounding heart which threatened to burst from his chest.  Everything around him seemed to vacillate between blurry to sharply detailed as he struggled to breathe.  It all seemed so out of place.  Wrong.  He couldn’t tell if his rapid heartbeat was from the importance of the day or the persistent apprehension that kept nagging him.

Dorian squeezing his hand drew him from his negative thoughts and he met the mage’s eyes, finding only love there.  His cheeks burned with guilt.

“We’ll now proceed with the bonding ceremony.  Attendants, please step forward with your cords,” Cullen announced.

Sera and Iron Bull stepped forward, both holding a cord – one of silver and one of gold respectively.  Sera stood next to Kestrel and Bull assumed his place by Dorian.

“Dorian and Inqu-…Kestrel, know now before you go further that since your lives have crossed in this life, you have formed eternal bonds. With full awareness, know that within this circle you are declaring your intent before your friends and family as witnesses.

“The promises made today and the ties that are bound here greatly strengthen your union and will cross the years and lives of each soul’s growth. Do you seek to enter this ceremony?”

The responded in union. “Yes.”  Dorian shifted his left hand to hold Kestrel’s remembering how the ceremony was scheduled to proceed.  It bothered the Inquisitor that he couldn’t remember himself.  Surely they’d practiced it.

“Will you share in each other’s pain and seek to alleviate it?”

“Yes.”

“And so the binding is made.”

Sera and Bull silently wrapped their cords around their held hands once.  Kestrel’s chest tightened.  Why couldn’t he shake this bad feeling?

Dorian mouthed a silent “I love you” as their gazes held.

“Will you share in each other’s laughter and look for the brightness and the positive in both?”

“Yes.”

“And so the binding is made.”

Another length of cord was curled around their joined hands, silver and gold mingling.

“Will you share in each other’s burdens so that your spirits may grow in this union?”

“Yes.” 

Spirits.  Where was Cole?  Kestrel thought he would’ve shown up for a happy occasion.

“And so the binding is made.”

“Will you share in each other’s dreams?”

“Yes.” 

Speaking of dreams, where was Solas?

“And so the binding is made.”

“Will you take the heat of anger and use it to temper the strength of this union?”

“Yes.” 

He felt an emptiness as he continued through the vows and the cords were wrapped around their hands with each oath.  This wasn’t how he imagined this day to be.

“And so the binding is made.”

“Will you honor each other as an equal in this union?”

“Yes.” 

“And so the binding is made.  As your hands are bound together now, so your lives and spirits are joined in a union of love and trust. The bond of marriage is not formed by these cords, but rather by the vows you have made. For always you hold in your own hands the fate of this union.

“May these hands be blessed this day. May they always hold each other. May they have the strength to hang on during the storms of stress and the dark of disillusionment. May they remain tender and gentle as they nurture each other in their wondrous love. May they build a relationship founded in love, and rich in caring. May these hands be healer, protector, shelter, and guide for each other.

“You may kiss,” Cullen finished, looking relieved he had made it through without any further hiccups.

With their hands still bound together, Dorian pulled Kestrel to him.  As his lips hovered right over the elf’s, he murmured, “You’ve made me the happiest man, _amatus_.  I love you.”  Without waiting for a response, he closed the short distance and passionately kissed his husband.

Kestrel melted against him as his worries dissolved, returning the kiss with more desire than he’d shown the entire ceremony. 

A single person slowly clapping broke their moment.  It was followed by several shocked gasps and the ring of metal scrapping against metal as weapons were drawn.  Their kiss faltered as both men searched for the source of the disturbance.

“I see congratulations are in order.”

“Corypheus…” Dorian growled, fire flaring in the palms of his hands.  “How dare you!”

“You have thwarted many of my plans, I felt like I should return the favor,” the ancient Tevinter sneered.  “It’s time to put an end to your pitiful resistance once and for all.”

The sun was blocked overhead as his dragon flew by, breathing fire on the crowds.  Several managed to dive out of the way but more were engulfed.  Screams tore through the once peaceful glade.  

A small part of him was relieved that his instincts hadn’t misled him.  And guilty.  More people were dying because of him.

Kestrel felt naked without his usual armor or bow.  All he had was a small decorative dagger which he quickly unsheathed, trying to ignore the cries of agony as people – his people, both Inquisition and members of his Clan - were burned alive. 

“Keep behind me, Kes,” Dorian ordered, understanding he was the one who was better equipped to take on Corypheus at this time, even without his staff.  He sprouted a barrier around the two of them just as the dragon passed overhead again, releasing another wave of fire.  Vivienne did the same for the Inquisition gang as they formed around the Inquisitor, weapons in hand.  So far his closest companions had managed to stay unscathed.

“How quaint.  You’ve made this very easy for me, Inquisitor.  You’re all in one location, just waiting to be slaughtered.”

The ground shook behind them as the dragon landed, crushing several unfortunate elves beneath it who hadn’t escaped in time.  It roared as a flurry of arrows struck its flank, doing nothing but annoying the beast.  It oriented on a group of archers – a mix of Inquisition and Dalish – and breathed death, setting them all alight.

With the dragon at their backs and Corypheus before them, they had no option but to fight.

“Don’t worry, Boss.  We’ll take care of them just in time for the reception,” said Iron Bull, hefting his two-handed axe onto his shoulder.  He was eyeing the dragon with a grim grin.  Several of Kestrel’s companions nodded their heads in agreement despite being under-armored.  Fortunately none of them had left their weapons behind like he and Dorian had.

For a moment, they were at a standstill; Corypheus and his minion waiting for the barriers to run out before attacking and the Inquisition waiting for the order from Kestrel.

“Focus on the dragon. We’ll take care of Corypheus.  And someone find me a fucking bow!” the Inquisitor commanded, royally pissed that he had nothing to fight with and people were dying around him.  He didn’t have time to be miffed that his wedding was being destroyed. 

“Here ya go!” said Sera as she shoved her own bow into Kestrel’s hand.  “Show Corphy-tits he picked the wrong day to attack!”

Bull charged at the dragon, accompanied by Cassandra, Leliana, Sera, and Vivienne.  That left Varric and Blackwall by his side in addition to Dorian.  Josephine was nowhere to be seen, thankfully.  And Cullen was rounding up a group of troops near the dragon.

Without waiting for a prompt, Kestrel sunk to a knee and in one fluid motion, strung and released and arrow right for Corypheus’ head.  Dorian followed it with a fireball.

The ancient Tevinter snatched the projectile out of the air and batted the blast aside.  “Is that all you have?” he mocked, remaining stationary.

Blackwall rushed forward and thrust at him with his sword.  A magical barrier appeared and the weapon bounced harmlessly off, never reaching the magister.  Varric’s bolts also missed their mark, unable to penetrate the shield.

With a low chuckle, Corypheus wacked aside another blow effortlessly with his hand, sending Blackwall’s sword flying.  He loomed over the Warden and grabbed his head in one hand, squeezing.  With a sickening crunch, the man’s body went limp and dropped to the ground, unmoving.

“You bastard!” Varric shouted, lobbing a volley of bolts at the enemy in a fit of rage.

One managed to lodge into Corypheus’ shoulder as his barrier failed.  He scowled as he ripped the barb out of his flesh and sent it flying back at the dwarf.

Dorian’s barrier enclosed Varric as he toppled over, cross bolt protruding from his eye.  He’d been too late.

“ _Kaffas_!” the mage growled, renewing the barrier to keep him and the Inquisitor safe.  They had clearly underestimated Corypheus.

Two of his companions had just been murdered in a few blinks of an eye, leaving Kestrel stunned.

“Now it’s your turn, _raffas_.  You and your disgrace of a Tevinter.  I don’t suppose you’ll go down easily, will you?”

“You’re the one who’s a disgrace to the Imperium!” retorted Dorian.  “I’m not the one who started the Blight by trying to break into the Fade!”

“You’re such simpleminded fool.  Otherwise you would understand what I’m trying to accomplish.  Ah…I know just the thing for a simpleton such as yourself, mage,” he said frankly.  He took a minute, searching around where he stood.

In the moment he was distracted, Kestrel and Dorian sent a barrage of fire and arrows at the magister.  All of it was useless and deflected.

“ _Amatus_ , you need to get yourself out of here.  Stealth and sneak away why I distract him.  With the Inquisitor, the Inquisition can still continue to fight this bastard,” the mage pleaded softly.

“I’m not leaving you, _ma vhenan_.  We do this together,” the elf responded, squeezing Dorian’s arm.

“Yes.  You’ll do quite nicely,” Corypheus said out loud as he uncovered a cowering elf behind one of the wedding decorations.  He hefted the woman into the air with a rough jerk on her arm, eliciting a sharp squeal of pain.  As she hung from his grasp, crying, he plunged a dagger into her gut and cut upward.  A grin appeared as her life blood gushed from her.  Instead of falling to the ground, it leapt from her body and swirled sluggishly around the magister’s feet.

“Shit.  Blood magic,” murmured Dorian, face grave.

“Elven blood always responds so well.”  The blood formed into red spikes and slammed into the mage’s barrier repeatedly, weakening it.

Dorian started to sweat and he struggled to maintain the magic blockade.  After constant hammering, his lyrium reserves were running low and his strength started to give out.  “Kes, you must leave!  I can’t hold out much longer…” he groaned, brow furrowing with the effort against the onslaught.

“I’m not-”

Before Kestrel could finish, the barricade shattered and the spikes slammed into Dorian.  As they punctured his skin, they dissolved, disappearing.  The mage dropped suddenly to his knees, head drooping.

“Dorian!” the Inquisitor cried, discarding his bow in favor of holding his husband.  His fingers scrambled to find the mage’s face, lifting it so their eyes could meet.  The gray gaze that met him was lifeless.  “What…what have you done to him?” he yelled at the magister, eyes swelling with tears.

“He’s mine now, Inquisitor.  What a weak-minded fool.  Quite easy to subjugate with a little blood magic,” Corypheus boasted.  With a gesture of the magister’s hand, Dorian’s arms raised, hands curling around the Inquisitor’s throat.

“Dori-” Kestrel yelped in surprise before the mage’s fingers squeezed, cutting off his air supply. 

“Now you have a choice, Inquisitor.  Kill this man or I’ll have him kill you.”

The elf was forced onto his back as the mage straddled him, putting all of his weight behind the choke hold.  His fingers brushed the hilt of his dagger at his waist but he knew he’d never be able to use that against his husband. 

Struggling to breathe but resigned to his fate, his blue eyes searched Dorian’s face.  Kestrel was surprised to find tears streaming down the man’s cheeks, stemming from an unresponsive gaze.  As his vision began to darken around the edges, he cupped the mage’s cheek, thumb brushing away the trail of tears in a sign of unvoiced forgiveness and love.

Air supply dwindling dangerously low, he was unable to deny his body’s compulsory will to fight.  His hands jumped to Dorian’s grip around his throat, prying and clawing out of desperation.  Despite the mage’s arms shaking, his hands held firm and Kestrel slipped into darkness.


	10. Chapter 10

“How long has he been like this?” questioned Solas, standing over the Inquisitor who was asleep on his bed.  A medic worked on the slumbering elf’s shoulder, patching the wound the removed arrow had left behind.  They’d elected not to use healing magic in case it affected his current state negatively.

“A few hours, at most.  He passed out on the way back to Skyhold,” replied Dorian, speaking quickly.  If he had been any less concerned for Kestrel’s well-being, he would’ve been disgusted with his appearance.  Dried blood covered his bare arm and partially exposed chest but some had managed to stain of the leather of his outfit too.  His hair was less than perfect, messed by the gallop he’d taken back to Skyhold once he realized the elf had fallen unresponsive.  And he stank of horses and sweat.

Once he realized the Inquisitor was unconscious, he’d rode Cullen’s horse ragged, making record time back to the Keep and leaving the Commander and his soldiers behind in his rush.  After clearing the portcullis, he forced the beast up the stairs until he cleared the main castle.  Nobles and servants alike leapt out of the way of the mad Tevinter on horseback.  He only dismounted when he reached the door to Solas’ chamber, leaving the palmetto frothing at the bit and snorting in relief to be free of its burden.  Fortunately the door opened itself, the elf coming forward due to the disturbance so Dorian didn’t need to blow the door of its hinges like he’d been planning.  He’d immediately redirected the pair to the Inquisitor’s room where they’d be more secluded from the public’s eye.

“Has he spoken out loud?”

“Bits and pieces but nothing as coherent as his last dream.  What if…?”

“He could have fallen unconscious due to blood loss,” the elf said calmly, lifting Kestrel’s eyelid and observing his reaction – or lack thereof. 

“I couldn’t rouse him, Solas!  He’s not just asleep.  If that demon has him… _Vishante kaffas!_   He was so close to giving in last time,” Dorian whispered, gray gaze filled with concern.

Solas sat down on the bed next to the Inquisitor and reached over him to hold his hand with the anchor.  Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath before his body stilled.

Adrenalin burned off, Dorian was suddenly exhausted.  With a frustrated huff, he settled onto the love seat beside the bed, eyes fixated on the two elves.  Fighting to stay awake, he stifled a yawn and took up a silent vigil.  He would not rest until he knew Kestrel was safe.

 

* * *

 

 

Solas abruptly stood, startling Dorian.  “What happened?” he immediately asked, rising to his own feet.  Only a few minutes had passed since they’d both sat down.

The elf frowned, glancing back at the Inquisitor. “I couldn’t get through to him.  There was too much distracting him.”

“You were in the dream with him?  …how did you manage that?”

“That’s not important at this time.  What matters is the demon is breaking him.  We must find a way to reach him.”

“Breaking him?  Maker, what’s happening?  What did you see?” Dorian asked desperately, grabbing the elf’s arm.

Solas shrugged off the man’s hand, pacing towards the balcony.  He paused before the open doors and turned around.  “He believes Corypheus is killing everyone he cares for.  Only Sera and you are left.  They rest were already dead or died while I was there,” he said quietly, clasping his hands behind his back with a frown.  “Once the demon kills Sera and you, I’m afraid we will lose the Inquisitor.  I am…not sure what else I can do.”

Dorian stayed silent, brow furrowed in thought.  His eyes suddenly widen with an idea and he spun on Solas.  “If you could enter his dream, can you show me how to?  If I’m there, I might have a better chance of getting through to him.  I was successful twice before.”

“What I did is…not an option.  However, there may be a way if you’re willing,” the elf acknowledged, head canting slightly to the right.

“You know I’d do anything.  What are you thinking?”

“Blood magic.  With it, you can find the sleeping minds of others.  If successful, you could enter his dream and potentially influence it.”

“Of course blood magic would allow for something so sinister,” Dorian responded, forcing a strained smile, finding morbid humor in the irony of the situation.  With a resigned sigh, he continued, “I believe the Imperium calls it dreamwalking.”

“An accurate term.  You’ll need enough blood for the spell and you’ll also need something of the Inquisitor’s for the spell to lock onto.  Blood would be best.”

“And here I left all of my snazzy blood magic tools back in Tevinter,” Dorian jested.

“A dagger will suffice.”

Dorian rolled his eyes at the elf’s lack of humor and stalked over to the desk in the room.  As a rogue, Kestrel tended to leave blades lying around.  Sure enough, the mage found a spare dagger on the wooden surface.  With the blade in hand, he resolutely walked over to the Inquisitor and sat next to him on the bed.

“You only need a little of his blood.  It’s so yours knows what to lock onto while you’re sleeping.  Another article of his might work but his blood will guarantee you’re able to find him in the Fade.”

Dorian nodded his head in agreement and lifted Kestrel’s right hand.  With a small prick of the weapon, blood was released from the elf’s finger.

“Place a drop on both of your temples,” Solas instructed.

Frowning in disapproval, the mage did as instructed, pressing the bleeding finger against his forehead before gently lowering the Inquisitor’s arm back to the bed.

“Now, you must provide another life force to provide fuel for the spell.  It will only last as long as you continue to bleed so the cut must be precise.”

Dorian looked down at Kestrel, steeling his resolve.  He was doing this for him.  It was worth it.

He understood the fundamentals of blood magic and without his usual pomp or circumstance, sliced through the flesh of his hand with the blade.  He stared at the crimson as it welled up into his palm, pooling quickly.  He was going to do blood magic.  But at least it was for a good purpose.  …Isn’t that what most blood mages thought?

Dorian closed his eyes and willed his blood to connect him to Kestrel in the Fade.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Mention of rape.

“Now, now, I’m not done yet, Inquisitor,” sneered Corypheus as fingers yanked his head up from resting against his chest.  His blue eyes flew skyward to find a passive Dorian standing over him, still under the magister’s blood magic spell.  “ _Ma vhenan_ …” he whispered, throat too sore to generate anything of a louder decimal.  The mage continued to ignore his pleas.

With a depressed, raspy huff, the Inquisitor’s gaze dropped to the scene before him.  All of his companions and advisors were dead except for Sera and Dorian.  Corypheus seemed to know they were the most precious to him.  The bodies of the Inquisition were laid out on the ground in an orderly line, all revealing gruesome deaths.  The magister’s dragon had done the most damage, chomping Iron Bull in two, burning Cassandra alive, stomping Leliana, and killing the remaining troops utilizing a mixture of its three skills.  Blackwall and Varric had died quickly by Corypheus’ hand in the heat of the battle which had left his Keeper, Cullen, and Josephine still alive.  Albeit temporarily.

Josephine had been the worst.  Her cries still echoed in his ears as the Tevinter tortured her before the Inquisitor.  They had all been brutalized one at a time as Kestrel was forced to watch.  The magister’s Dorian-puppet made sure he paid attention to what was happening to his companions.  Now it was down to just the three of them.

“You know you can stop this, Inquisitor.  Just give me what I want.”

The Inquisitor had tried to remain strong but as each one of his people were cut down because of him, he felt a small part of his resistance die with them.  He knew he needed to hold out for Thedas’ sake.  If he gave up, Corypheus would win and their world would be doomed.  And yet, more and more of him was beginning to care less and less about the repercussions.

“You can fuck off, Corphy-tits!” Sera shouted, drawing Kestrel’s attention back to her.  The magister had her by her ear and was forcing her to her feet.  She struggled against her bonds, spewing profanities at the man.

“So disrespectful to your superior, _raffas_.  I’ll treat you like my disobedient slaves.”  Corypheus held a dagger to the squirming elf’s ear and sliced off the tip in one clean, swipe.  Since he was holding the severed tip, Sera crashed to her knees, howling out in pain.

“Stop!” Kestrel yelled, struggling to stand.  Dorian’s heavy hand on his shoulder kept him kneeling.

“Come to your senses, Inquisitor?” Corypheus scoffed, leaving Sera writhing on the ground before him.

The mage’s hold lightened as he squeezed Kestrel’s shoulder reassuringly. “Don’t give in, Kes.”  It was barely audible but the elf’s keen hearing picked up the few words of encouragement.

The Inquisitor stilled, realizing that Dorian had somehow managed to break free of the blood spell.  He struggled to keep his gaze fixed on the approaching magister, not wanting to give away his husband’s freedom.  Maybe he could still manage to escape if he kept Corypheus occupied.

“All you have to do is agree to work for me and I leave this _raffas_ and the Tevinter alone.”

“What would you require me to do?” Kestrel asked softly. 

Dorian gripped his shoulder again in warning.

“Become my pet, of course.  Your people have excelled in this capacity before so it shouldn’t be difficult for you.”  Looming over the Inquisitor, Corypheus gestured and a creature of pure horror sprouted from the grassy ground.  Its emaciated form was bare except for a decrepit black wrap that clung to its waist.  Long, spider-like legs framed the creature’s torso, curled and twitching as if ready to impale with their pointed tips.  The most terrifying aspect was the demon’s lipless grin, bone-white teeth conspicuous beneath a helm of armor plating and tentacles.  “You will agree to be possessed and become a slave to its will.  My will.”

The fear demon glided close on cue and oriented its eyeless head on the Inquisitor, tentacles squirming around its shoulders.

If he agreed, would it be enough of a distraction for Dorian to flee?  It was a small consolation but Kestrel didn’t hold out much hope for any of them surviving this.  If it gave him even the slimmest of chances…Part of him knew it was selfish of him to choose the mage over Thedas but what had Thedas done for him?  Dorian had given him everything.  He was worth it.

His hand found the mage’s on his shoulder as he looked up.  Jerking his head to the side, he tried to communicate to Dorian that he should run when he had a chance.

“Well?” Corypheus prodded, growing impatient.

Unable to wait for his husband’s acknowledgement, Kestrel faced the ancient Tevinter and nodded.  “If you agree to free Sera and Dorian and allow them safe passage away from you then-”

“Kes, you can’t!” interrupted the mage.  A wall of fire burst from the ground and engulfed Corypheus as a solid barrier erected around the two of them.

The magister, caught completely unaware, erupted into flames.

Immediately, both men were forced to shield their ears against an inhuman cry radiating from the fear demon; it was a noise with the ear-splitting quality of a terror’s screech and the smalls-wetting bellow of a dragon’s roar.

Corypheus crumpled to the ground.

As soon as the shriek stopped, Dorian pulled the Inquisitor to his feet and tugged him away from the scene.

“Sera!” Kestrel cried, realizing the elf was still on the ground crying, seemingly unaffected by the turn of events.  He pushed against Dorian but the mage held him tighter.

“Kes, this isn’t real!  This is a dream!  You have to wake up!” he begged, attempting to draw the elf’s attention away from the demon who was floating intently towards Sera.

“What are you talking about?  We can’t leave her!”

Sera didn’t even struggle as the demon reached down with its withered skeletal grip and snapped her neck.  It discarded her motionless body to the ground and turned back to the pair.

“Look at the inconsistencies, _amatus_!  Sera would’ve never gone down so easily!  She would’ve fought tooth and nail until the end.  And where’s Solas?  He respects you.  He would’ve shown up for…” he trailed off, assessing their surroundings.  His voice was softer as he continued, “Marker, is this…?”  Dorian shook his head as his voice regained its edge.  “This is the Nightmare demon feeding on your fears!  You must remember, Kes!”

Confusion flickered over the Inquisitor’s features as he frowned.  The mage’s words rang with truth but his mind was so muddled.  “I-” Kestrel started.

“Yes, yes.  This façade is no longer needed,” interrupted the demon, sounding like the creature who had spoken to him in his previous dreams.  Their setting disappeared as did the bodies, leaving only the three of them in the black and sickly-green backdrop of the Fade.

Kestrel gasped as his memories flooded back.  “I…I want no more dealings with you, demon!  Leave me alone!”

Dorian pulled the elf to him, hands on his shoulders as he forced him to focus on him.  “You just need to wake up, _amatus_.  Then this horrible nightmare will be over.  The illusion is broken and this demon can’t harm you anymore.”

“If this is my dream, Dorian, how are you still here?” Kestrel questioned.

“You stupid mage.  You’ve just played into what the Inquisitor fears will happen most.”

They both looked at the demon.

“Someone’s a sore loser,” mocked Dorian.

The tentacles writhed as the demon chuckled.  Kestrel shivered in response.  He knew there was something they were missing.

“While you’re correct in the sense that the Inquisitor is free to go, mage, you are not.  Not until your blood magic spell dies.  And I can still feel you bleeding.”

“Is that how you’re in my dream? …with blood magic?” whispered the elf, widened eyes returning to Dorian.

The mage cringed before smiling apologetically at Kestrel.  With a soft sigh, he released the Inquisitor and oriented on the demon.  “So we get to spend some quality time together.  Lucky for you.”

“You have proven your stupidity,” the demon taunted.

Dorian frowned.

“I’ve had enough of your games.  What the fuck are you talking about?” Kestrel snapped. 

The mage glanced at him in surprise at his vehemence.

The demon sighed, vexed by the need to educate.  “When blood is involved to reach the Fade, part of your being – your essence – physically enters the Fade.  Your mage is dreamwalking which can only be achieved through blood magic.   I have access to his blood just like I had access to yours when you closed the rift after my Terror cut open your hand.  When part of you is physically in the Fade, what happens here will reflect in the waking world.  Essentially, if I break your mage lover here, his mind will stay broken when he awakes.”

Demons materialized around the pair, quickly surrounding them.

“I will get what I want, Inquisitor.  One way or another.”

A pride demon stomped forward and yanked Dorian into the air by his arms.  The movement was so quick that Kestrel had no time to react.

“You obviously don’t know who you’re dealing with.  A little beating here won’t break me,” the Tevinter said confidently, trying to ignore the pain as his arms were wrenched above his head.

“I’ll concede that everyone has their different breaking points, mage, but whether it’s breaking bones, raping, or making you relive some of your worst childhood moments, it will happen.  You understand time works differently in the Fade and, at the rate you’re bleeding, I’ll have ample time to torture you.  Or the Inquisitor can give in and fulfil our original deal.”  It looked pointedly at the elf.

A chill ran through him as Kestrel blanched at the threat, his last three dreams still very vivid.  He didn’t want Dorian to suffer like he had.

Dorian squirmed in the demon’s hold, realizing that they had been backed into a corner.  He knew the Inquisitor was fatally weak-willed when it came to him, something he normally found endearing, but it held serious implications for their current scenario.  “Kes, don’t listen to it.  I’ll be fine.  Just wake up and I’ll join you in a few,” he pleaded, sensing the elf’s hesitation.

Before he could decide what he wanted to do, the pride demon slammed Dorian face down onto a table that materialized just seconds before.  It knocked the air from his lungs and kept him from cursing or crying out as his arms and legs were strapped in.

“I have the perfect torment for you, mage.  Something I believe the Inquisitor will enjoy too since he’s decided to stay for the show.”

A desire demon sashayed forward and with a delighted smirk, morphed into an exact replica of Harrier in his Dalish armor.  The pride demon mutated to Alby wearing his leather apron.

“Ooo…a new plaything,” Harrier purred as he ran his hand down Dorian’s clothed back. “We had such a good time, little bird, I know your mage will enjoy my attention too.  Don’t worry, I’ll be equally as _loving_ with him.  I know you like it so he must too.”

“No…” Kestrel whispered, arms hugging himself.

“Don’t worry, _amatus_.  I’ll be fine,” Dorian reassured even as the doctor used a sharp blade to slice through the silk of his shirt.

Pushing the fabric aside, Harrier bent over as ran his tongue over an exposed shoulder blade.  “Mmm…I’ll show this _shem_ his place.”

Kestrel shuddered in disgust even though the demon wasn’t touching him.

“You’re a fucking bastard,” Dorian cursed at the Harrier look-alike.

“Curse me if you want.  It’ll be a nice contrasted to the Inquisitor’s constant cries and whimpers.  Now, doctor, should I fuck him before or after you break some of his bones?”

“Preferably both so I can see how his response changes.”

“I like your thinking!” Harrier responded with a grin as he started to undress.

Alby struggled with Dorian’s leather pants but eventually he was able to cut away enough fabric to leave his rear and thighs exposed.

Although terrified of the two apparitions who surround Dorian, Kestrel’s need to save him overrode his fear and he took a step forward.

“Stop, Kes,” Dorian ordered.  “Please, wake up and I’ll be there as soon as I can.  This is not the first time I’ve been tormented by demons in the Fade.  I’m stronger than them.  I just don’t want you to watch and risk-”

Harrier slapped the mage’s ass, summoning a startled yelp from the man and leaving behind a bright red hand print that even Kestrel could see from where he was standing.  “Time to stop talking.  Looks like the Inquisitor wishes to watch the show.  Let him enjoy it.”  He climbed onto the table nude and straddled Dorian’s thighs, hands palming and massaging his bare cheeks as he allowed the tip of his cock to rub in between them, prodding.  “Are you sure you don’t want to hurt him before I start, doctor?”

Alby rubbed his chin in thought before answering, “I suppose something small wouldn’t impact the data too much.  I am curious to see his pain tolerance prior to being raped.”  He walked around the table and stood before the mage’s left hand.  From within his robe, he extracted a simple hammer and lined it up over Dorian’s hand.  Swinging with as much force as he could muster, the hammer smacked into his skin and sunk in with several audible cracks as the bones gave way.

Dorian’s body contorted with agony, straining against his bonds as he released a sharp shout.  Tears trickled from his shut eyes, summoned from the throbbing of his broken hand.

Kestrel crumpled to his knees, crying freely.  The familiar sounds of breaking bones and of pained cries took him back to his own experience.  He couldn’t let Dorian experience the torture he had.  Even if the mage believed he was strong enough to survive it, Kestrel knew he wasn’t strong enough to witness it.

“Hmm…typical reaction,” assessed Alby, jotting down notes on a piece of paper.

“My turn,” Harrier crooned as he parted the mage’s ass, hips pressing forward.

“Stop!  Just stop!” the Inquisitor yelled, struggling to his feet.  As soon as he was on his toes, he sprinted and ran at the doctor, decorative dagger drawn.  Plunging it into the man’s throat, he ignored the spurt of blood that coated him as he spun and leapt at Harrier atop the table.  Tackle successful, both elves fell from the surface onto the ground.  Kestrel was the only one who stood, blade left in Harrier’s chest.

“Dorian?” he asked softly, approaching the table.  Even though his hands shook violently, he was able to unlatch the bindings around his ankles.  As he moved to his wrists, the fear demon appeared on the other side of the table.

“Foolish Inquisitor.  This is my realm and there are plenty of demons to continue what the first pair started,” it derided, gaunt skin tightening around its bare teeth as it grinned.

On cue, three more pairs of Harrier and Alby emerged from the shadows.

“Perhaps we should up the ante and let all three sets have a go at the same time.  What do you think, Inquisitor?”

With a heavy sigh, Kestrel’s shoulders drooped in defeat.  “Alright, you win.”

“No, _amatus_!  You can’t give in!” Dorian protested, arching his back and wriggling his knees beneath him.  His wrists pulled on the leather straps holding him and he grimaced against the screaming pain in his hand.

“Shhh…” murmured one of the demons posing as Harrier as it stroked a hand through the thrashing mage’s hair.  Its hold tightened and it forced his face against the wood.

“Fuck you,” he growled in response, body tense but he was unable to gain enough leverage to lift his head or move his body further.

“Dorian, it’s okay.  You’re worth it, _ma vhenan_ ,” Kestrel reassured, unable to meet the mage’s gaze as his head was pushed down.

“Kes!  What about Thedas?  Think of the bigger picture!  You’ll become an abomination and they’ll use you for Maker knows what!  Thousands…millions will die!  And for what?  To spare me some pain and humiliation?  I can’t live with that, _amatus_.”

“I-I…” the Inquisitor stammered, hesitating.

“Are you going to be able to live with the fact that you let the one you love be molested and beaten and broken for the rest of his life while you watch?  Besides, I’ll promise not to use you for harm.  We just want you out of the picture,” the demon pushed, gliding closer to the elf.

“Dorian, I can’t let you go through what I did.  Just…just find another way to defeat them,” he whispered, feeling overwhelmed with guilt but he knew he spoke the truth.  He’d trade Thedas for Dorian.

“But I won’t-”

“Shut up,” growled Harrier as he yanked hard on the mage’s hair, silencing him.

“Demon, I’m yours so long as you agree to free Dorian and do no more harm to him.”

“Excellent.  It’s a deal, Inquisitor,” the fear demon purred as he floated to a stop before the elf.  Boney hands stretched forward to grasp his face, holding him firm.

The demon’s fingers were suddenly ripped away, long nails scratching Kestrel’s cheeks, leaving four red trails on either side of his face.

The elf was stunned as he watched a large black wolf tear into the demon.  Its large teeth clamped down on the Nightmare’s throat and ripped it out, leaving its body twitching in the aftermath.  It dissolved shortly after.  The remaining demons bowed their heads in reverence before disappearing without a fight.  The table also vanished from beneath Dorian and he landed on the ground with a graceless “oomph”.

The wolf oriented its six crimson eyes on the Inquisitor and growled softly, muzzle lifting to reveal long canines.

Kestrel had the serious impression that it was upset with him and didn’t dare take his eyes off of the creature to check on Dorian.  “Fen’harel…?” he said, holding his hands up before him in a placating gesture.  The elven god had saved him once before but now it seemed like it had turned on him.

The beast snorted once and shook its head before it launched itself at the Inquisitor.  Kestrel didn’t even have time to call out before its paws smashed into his chest and shoved him off his feet.

Blackness followed.


	12. Chapter 12

“Inquisitor?” questioned a soft voice, gently shaking his shoulder.

Kestrel’s eyes slowly opened, trying to focus on the shadow that hung over him.  For a moment, he thought he recognized the dark muzzle and six red eyes staring down at him.  Yelping with fear, he sat up abruptly and scrambled backward until he hit the headboard of his bed.  “Fen’harel!” he shouted as he held up his hands before him.  When another attack didn’t follow, he cautiously lowered his arms and blinked repeatedly.  His vision cleared and Solas appeared, watching him.

“Fen’harel?” Solas repeated, eyebrow raised.

“I-I thought…” Kestrel stammered, confused.  Shaking his head, he glanced around the room, searching for any signs of the wolf.  He was immediately distracted when he spotted Dorian leaning against his desk, staring at his bandaged hand.  His initial response was to go to his side but Solas placed a halting hand on his shoulder.

“From what Dorian explained, you both had a traumatic experience.  I would recommend rest, Inquisitor, now that the matter has been dealt with.”

He thought of arguing with the elf or of calling out to the mage, but they had both crossed lines they never thought they would have before yesterday.  Dorian had used blood magic to try to save him.  And Kestrel had been willing to sacrifice all of Thedas for him.  He settled back into bed, eyes dropping to the sheets beneath him.

Having said his peace, Solas nodded and departed, leaving the two men behind.

Lost in thought, it wasn’t until the mattress sunk next to him that he realized Dorian had joined him on the bed.  He looked up, meeting the mage’s gray gaze.

“You can never do that again, Kes,” he said quietly, frowning.

“Dorian, you don’t-”

“No,” he interrupted firmly.  “You can _never_ do that again.  As flattering as your choice was, I’m not worth all of Thedas.  If you’re ever faced with a similar decision, you _will_ choose millions of lives over mine.  I love you, _amatus_ , but there’s only one possible decision in that scenario.  Promise me.”

Being scolded like a child, he’d never felt their five year age gap so acutely before.  Flushing with embarrassment, he abruptly stood, placing his back to Dorian.  Voice shaking, he spoke. “Why must all of my actions be determined by what’s best for Thedas?  What about what’s best for me?  I know it’s selfish but I don’t fucking care, Dorian.  _You_ are my world, not _this_.”  He gestured around the room as he spun to face the mage, continuing passionately.  “I didn’t choose any of this.  I have given everything that I have to the Inquisition and to protecting Thedas.  Is it so wrong for me to protect you?  I love you, Dorian.  You’re what keeps me moving forward underneath all of the weight of this role. 

“Everyone seems to forget I’m just a simple Dalish elf and instead place me on some unrealistic pedestal as the Herald of Andraste.  There’s no consideration for what I want or what I care for.  I do my best to shield the people of Thedas from the evil we’re facing but I can’t save everyone.  Sometimes I wonder if I’ll even be able to save myself once this is all done.  It’s…it’s too much, sometimes.  I need you, Dorian.  You…you make everything more manageable…I’m sorry, I can’t make that promise.  I-I’m not sure I would choose differently given another opportunity.”  Tears flowed freely down his cheeks and Kestrel had trouble finishing his speech as his body trembled with his emotions.

He looked so small and helpless.  More like a simple Dalish elf and less like the Herald of Andraste.  Even Dorian himself sometimes took Kestrel for granted, expecting him to be perfect instead of a flawed living being like the rest of them were.

“ _Vishante kaffas_ …” he quietly cursed at himself as he rose to his feet.  He embraced the quaking elf in a tight hug as he murmured, “I’m sorry, _amatus_.”

The elf welcomed the hold and breathed in the mage’s scent, calming himself.

They stood together for a long moment, silently enjoying each other’s company and touch.

Finally, Kestrel muttered hesitantly into Dorian’s neck, “You used blood magic to reach me…?”

“Yes.  We both made compromises we shouldn’t have today but…I’d do it again.  If I’m willing to compromise my ethics to save you, I can’t fault you for doing the same.”  Dorian didn’t elaborate that practicing blood magic once versus possibly dooming all of Thedas were on two different scales.  He just wanted to put the whole event behind them.

Kestrel remained silent for a moment, also understanding the difference of weight in Dorian’s comparison.  When he did speak, he elected to change topics.  “I can’t decide if it’s comical or depressing that after spending so much time sleeping, I’m still tired.”

“Both, I’d say,” Dorian replied with a small grin as he leaned back to allow some space between them.  His hands idly rubs the elf’s bare upper arms, careful to avoid the bandage over his shoulder.  “You were shot, after all.  Why don’t you go back to sleep, Kes?”

Kestrel grabbed his hand and held it close to his chest.  “Come to bed with me?”

The mage smirked and leaned in close, lips inches apart.  “Of course.  I’ll ensure you have good dreams, _amatus_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The end! Thank you for reading! There's definitely more to come in other stories. :)


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